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RAJ NANDY Jul 2015
Dear Friends, I have simplified the true story of
the Grand Canyon of Arizona by leaving out the
plethora of scientific details, & the various theories
of scholars about its formation! Presenting here the
more popular version for your kind appreciation!
Therefore, I have used only a part of my Notes on
the subject. Kindly don’t forget to read Part Two
later, for the total story. No need to comment in
a hurry! Thanks, -Raj.

STORY OF THE GRAND CANYON IN
VERSE : PART ONE- BY RAJ NANDY

              BACKGROUND
Our unique planet earth on which we reside,
Remains restless and dynamic, which in its
bowels it hides!
Titanic forces have been at work since our planets
formation; (App. 4.5 billion years ago)
Tectonic plates collided shaping continents,
along with quakes and volcanic eruptions!
Mighty glaciers had formed and receded, while
forces of nature did shape,
When mighty Himalayas and the Rockies rose
up, as we see them on date!
Several species evolved and of multifarious kind,
Leaving a trail of geological mysteries behind!
Geologists have tried to figure out what caused
the rugged Rockies to rise,
From miles below the surface of the earth,
stretching across 3000 miles;
Across New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming and
Montana, all the way up into North Canada;
To become the longest mountain chain of
North America!
The Geologists speculate that the heavier
Pacific Oceanic Plate, had moved northwest
under the North American Plate;
And as a result of this geological seduction
and embrace,
A split had opened up in the American West!
Such mountain building activity or ‘Orogeny’,
Had occurred in several phases during Earth’s
evolving history!
But mostly it occurred during the ‘Age of the
Dinosaurs’ in the Mesozoic Age,
Around 100 to 200 million years hence!
Now cutting across million years of Geological
History,
I come to the Colorado Plateau to commence
my Grand Canyon Story!

THE COLORADO PLATEAU
The awesome forces which raised the Rocky
Mountain Chains, also raised the Colorado
Plateau at a later time once again!
But during the Plateau’s gradual rise there was
surprisingly no devastation,
As the well preserved sedimentary layers rose
up with the Plateau without deformation!
Like an elevator traveling upwards this Plateau
gradually rose,
Along with its several embedded rock layers,
with which it was composed!
The Plateau is scattered over an area of some
1300,000 square mile as we know;
Going clockwise it covers Arizona, Utah, Colorado,
and the State of New Mexico!
Within this rugged area are located the Grand
Canyon, Grand Staircase, Bryce and Zion Canyon,
Arches, National Bridges, Monument Valley,
Glen Canyon, and Lake Powell.
It was Major John Wesley Powell a Geologist,
a brave solder and an explorer,
Who during the 19th century had mapped the
entire Grand Canyon area;
By sailing down the treacherous rapid infested
and uncharted Colorado River!
During the American Civil War Powell’s right
hand was amputated,
God bless his soul for the work he had initiated!
(
The area from Bryce Canyon down to the Grand Canyon
is referred to as the ‘Grand Staircase’ due to the existing
land features!)

THE SOUTHERN RIM OF THE PLATEAU
Standing near the edge of more easily accessible
Southern Rim, one gets captivated by the sculptured
beauty and brilliant colors of sedimentary rock layers;
Which also captivated the imagination of tourists,
geologists, painters and explorers!
Geologists have opined, that till 80 million years, this
area was inundated by the Sea several times;
By dating the limestone and marine fossils on the
top Kaibab Limestone Layer they now find!
The lowest rock basement of this Plateau the
Vishnu Schist, dated as a third of our Earth’s
total age, still exists! (Dated as 1.5 billion years.)
Yet the dominant color of the layers of the
Canyon is of a reddish kind,
Due to iron deposits in the layers that we find!
Standing on the edge of the Southern Rim one
is struck by the grand panoramic view and its
macro immensity !
Gazing into a 1500 meter deep gorge carved into
nearby horizontal sedimentary rocks, - a stark
reality,
Where Man becomes aware of his own micro
fragility!
These layers were deposited 500 million years ago,
Prior to the elevation of the Colorado Plateau!
Viewing this testament to Nature’s magnificence,
Man loses himself for a while, to become transfixed
in space and time!
Though there are other deeper canyons in this
world we know, but none are more impressive
or grander;
So Major Powell named it the ‘Grand Canyon’,
which had also made him to wonder!

GRAND CANYON AND THE COLORADO RIVER
The Grand Canyon stretches from Lake Powell near
Utah-Arizona boarder right up to Lake Mead,
Is around 277 miles long with a max width of 18 miles,
and a max depth of around 6000 feet!
The Canyon proper is located in the northwestern
portion of Arizona, in the midst of the Grand Canyon
National Park,
Where the Colorado River bisects this Park into
Northern and Southern halves!
The Northern Rim is a 1000 feet higher and is ideal
for rafters, trekkers, and cliff climbers.
The better connected South Rim has around 5 million
visitors annually!
But the affluent few with lesser time, visit the glass-
bottom horseshoe shaped ‘Skywalk’ in the western
section, in Hualapai Indian Reservation territory!

             CONCLUDING PART ONE :
The question that intrigue Geologists and the visitors
alike, is how the Colorado River did shape,
The mighty Canyon through this great depth?
Before giving you the answer in Part Two
I must pause here to quote,
Lines from the poem “Grand Canyon” which
Lisa A Williams once wrote; -
“I look to the depths far, far below,
To crevices and caverns formed long ago.
To twisting trails, ledges steep,
Winding rivers with pools so deep! ..........
Cascades of color with each sunrise,
Golden walls with lavender hues,
Shades of pink and smoky blues.
Rainbows of stone, dance in fading light,
Lengthening shadows, with approaching
night . …………….
A brush in hand the painter can see,
The miracle of nature and all it can be.
Trying to capture the beauty of age,
Seems impossible with human gauge!
So much to take in, the eyes try to behold,
An ancient image of creation so bold.
Formed by ice and melting snow,
An artist’s canvas sketched long ago!”
-  by Lisa A Williams.

Dear readers, later in the second part of this
story,
I shall conclude by telling you how the
Colorado River in all its pristine glory,
Carved out this vast Canyon through million
years of our Earth’s History!
Part two will be posted later after a break
surely,
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy
of New Delhi.
*ALL COPYRIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY
RAJ NANDY Aug 2015
Dear Readers, President Theodore Roosevelt wanted
to save this marvelous Natural Wonder for posterity! So
the Grand Canyon National Park was set up in 1919. In
1979 it was declared as World Heritage Site! With the
portion “Sun rises and sets over the Grand Canyon”, -
I have concluded this poem. Kindly take your time to read,
no need to comment in a hurry please ! Thanks, -Raj

CONCLUDING THE GRAND CANYON
STORY IN VERSE – RAJ NANDY

INTRODUCTION
Literature about great natural features include
two personal types of writing;
Description of things observed, and impressions
of what is known and seen!
The story of the Grand Canyon takes us back
to the Pre-Cambrian Age,
When violent forces were unleashed from within
the Earth, during its formative stage;
When mighty forces of erosion began to sculpture
her undulating landscapes!
Therefore, I begin with a quote about Erosion,
From the great poet Alfred Lord Tennyson; -
“The hills are shadows and they flow,
From form to form, and nothing stands.
They pass like clouds, the solid lands.
Like clouds they shape themselves and go!”

TO RECAPITULATE PART ONE:
In Part One we have seen, how movement of
earth’s tectonic plates unleashed violent forces
from within!
It formed mountains and lakes, shaping our
landscapes, which now appear so peaceful,
grand, and serene!
Over millions of years the forces of erosion in
the form of wind, rain, sun and snow,
Sculptured earth’s evolving features creating
majestic, panoramic vistas as we know!
Geologists now opine, that the Grand Canyon
was carved out by the Colorado River, -
cutting through ‘layers of Geological time’!

THE COLORADO RIVER CARVED THE CANYON:
In the state of Colorado, from the high country,
Where snow and ice lasts well beyond the dawning
days of Spring;
There the majestic peaks of the Rockies form the
perennial fountain head from which springs, -
One of the great rivers of the world the Colorado;
Which travels 1400 miles through seven States
reaching the Californian Gulf west of Mexico!
Now during prehistoric days, the pristine Colorado
had flowed almost along the same path as today!
But after the magical rise of the Colorado Plateau
some five million years ago, (Refer Part One)
It had blocked the river’s path making it flow
south-east into the Gulf of Mexico!
Few Geologists now opine, that this diverted river
had formed the pre-historic Lake Bidahochi,
Which later drained out to form the Little Colorado
River, which today we get see!
But the cut-off western portion of the river (named
Hualapai Drainage) continued to eat away through
the Plateau’s southern portion,
Through a gradual process known as ’Headwater
Erosion’!
For the river flowing at a steeper gradient along
the ‘Grand Staircase’ of the Plateau, carried
stones, rocks and debris,
Which formed the cutting tools, deepening the
Canyon over countless centuries!
When the softer sedimentary layers of the Plateau
below the top rocky layers gave away, - it resulted
in several rock falls!
While flash floods and erosion continued to breach
the sides of the canyon walls!
Thus over millions of years the width of the Canyon
gradually increased;
While the gushing and untamed Colorado River
chiseled through the depths of those Cyclopean walls, -
running deep!
Now the ancient Lake Bidahochi which had breached its
banks, had captured our pristine Colorado;
And their combined power increased the volume of
water and river’s chiseling power, with its rapid flow!

ENDANGERED COLORADO RIVER :
It is unfortunate that today, the Colorado no longer
reach the mighty Pacific as in the olden days!
With the progress of civilization and the spawning
of big cities,
Like Denver, Las Vegas, Phoenix and Los Angeles;
And to cater for the agricultural farmlands and the
Industries,
Many dams got built to divert its water and to
generate electricity!
Thus over a century of overuse and abuse of this
precious natural resource,
Gradually choked up the great Colorado, as it
became a mere trickle at the end of its course!
Ecologists now debate, while USA has launched
‘Save the Colorado River Project’!
Let us now cheer up by getting back to our
Grand Canyon’s scenic beauty,
Before concluding this wondrous Canyon Story!

SUN RISES AND SETS OVER GRAND CANYON!
To see the sunrise from Mather, Yaki, or the
Hopi Point, - located on the Southern Rim,
Becomes a life time experience, better than any
surreal dream!
First a glimmer then a glow, when a faint blue-white
sheen begins to show!
As the sun gradually sprinkles its light, streaks of
crimson red spreads across the eastern sky!
Soon orange and yellow shafts of light, light up the
Canyon walls up high!
Squirrels scurry out of sight, and birds twitter in
the sky!
The Hummingbird hovers like a helicopter, and
Big Horn sheep are also seen;
The Hummingbird which can even fly backwards,
enlivens this early morning scene!
The sun now rising in its resplendent glory,
showers the canyon with its kaleidoscopic beams;
With streaks of yellow, gold and red, it chases out
lurking shadows from within!
Like a curtain lifting before their eyes, the tourists
view this panoramic sight!
As the Grand Canyon awakens to greet the day,
With cameras madly clicking away!
The great ancestors of the Hopi tribe, Hopi
meaning both peaceful and wise;
Had inhabited these areas some eight thousand
years hence!
Their scooped out granaries and tools found inside
Canyon walls, - have an ancient story to tell !
The Spaniards were the first Europeans to reach,
in search for gold which they never found!
But for the Hopis the Canyon remains, as their
sacred Holy ground!
When those Spaniards saw the Colorado way
down below, from the Canyon’s upper rim’s side;
They said that this thin blue streaked River, was
barely five feet wide! (In mid-16th century)
The average width of the Canyon is around 10 miles;
While the River at its narrowest point is 600 yards
wide!
The Condor the largest American bird, catching an
upward draft circles up high;
Like an uncrowned monarch he surveys his kingdom
below, nothing escapes his watchful eyes!
Temperature at the Canyon’s floor is 20 degrees
higher, when compared to its outer rim;
Supports an ecosystem of plants and animals,
With the river as chief nourisher of all things!
Evergreen pines and furs grow along the cooler
areas of the Canyon’s outer rim;
While cactus species are found on its arid floor,
Their exotic flowers bloom during Summer and Spring!
The Northern Rim a thousand feet higher, offers many
spectacular sites!
But the Southern Rim remains open throughout the
year, while the Northern closes during Winter time.
From the Hopi Point west of the Canyon, the visitors
enjoy the beauty of the silent, sinking sun;
When the sky gets diffused with vermillion red, as
darkening shadows engulf those Canyon walls!
The mighty Canyon with its Cyclopean walls,
perhaps the playground of the Titans from eons past;
Shaped by some mythical Vulcan, shall remain till
this World continues to last!

CONCLUDING THE GRAND CANYON STORY:
I conclude my Grand Canyon Story by quoting a
poem I had once read;
Written by an Anonymous author, whose name
I had failed to get!
“BUILT WITH PATIENCE OF ENDLESS TIME,
YEARS ERODE AND SHAPES DEFINE.
LAYERS YIELD THEIR COUNTLESS AGE,
EYES CAN SEE BUT CANNOT GAUGE!
STAND AGAPE WITH AWE INSPIRED,
IMAGE READS OF LIFE TRANSPIRED.
CLIFFS REACH OUT TO TOUCH THE SKY,
PATHS LEAD DOWN WHERE RIVER LYE.
COLORS, SHAPES AND SHADOWS MELD,
HERE, A PLACE FOREVER HELD.
WALK AWAY YET NEVER PART,
BODY LEAVES BUT NOT THE HEART!”
- Anonymous
……………………………………………………………
ALL COPYRIGHTS WITH THE AUTHOR RAJ NANDY
OF NEW DELHI, E-MAIL: rajnandy21@yahoo.in
KINDLY READ PART ONE OF THIS STORY IF YOU HAD MISSED OUT!
THANKS, -Raj Nandy
Ella Gwen May 2015
Was I pure igneous rock
and you sedimentary stone
both undeniably metamorphic,
look, everything's changed.

Hidden layers you obscured
deposited through thousands
of tiny imprints, consequences
of each a tiny blade still felt.

Geologists studied us but
no answers did they provide,
an unhappy cohesion of the
earth and none the better for it.

The pressure you put on my
atoms yielded surprising results,
intrusive company chipped
away at the outer layers.

But I longed for the fire and
you for other marble to which
my quartz could not compare,
friction reducing both to rubble.

You brought blood from a stone
and so I eroded you twice as fast
because it seems these two rocks
cannot make a love that can last.
RAJ NANDY Aug 2016
SECRETS OF THE STONEHENGE IN VERSE
Dear Readers, I present a simplified version of the true story of the Stonehenge, on the Salisbury plains of Southern England, with over a million visitors every year. Declared as a World Heritage Site since 1986.Left out many technical details to curb the Length!
Hope you find this interesting to read.  Thanks, - Raj

SECRETS OF THE STONEHENGE IN VERSE
                     BY RAJ NANDY
                
                     INTRODUCTION
Shrouded in ancient legend, rituals and mystery,
Forming a part of ancient History, in the County of
Wiltshire on the rolling Salisbury plains,
Thirty miles north of the English Channel, stands the
megalithic structure  - The Stonehenge.
Dating back to some 3000 BC during the Neolithic Age,
Long before the Egyptian pyramids got made!
Some of its secrets have finally been unraveled by
Archeologists of our time and age.
It was a period when early humans changed over
from being nomadic hunter- gatherers,
To cultivate land and domesticate animals, to
become settled farmers.
This ushered in a new social change in the history
of Human progression,
Which got reflected in huge stone structures to
mark this advancement and occasion.
For these megalithic structures were bigger than
the tribes of men or the community;
Marked burial mounds and places for performing
sacred rites and magical healing rituals, for the
entire community.
Stonehenge was aligned to the mid-Summer and
mid-Winter Solstice, with the rising and the setting
Sun.
Served as an astronomical calendar for the turning
of Seasons, when crop cycles also begun.
Some scholars opine that it was used as a Lunar
Calendar as well,
Since Moon worship predates Sun worship by
Pre-historic men!
It was long before the invention of the wheel,
written script, and even metal implements.
This monumental structure speak of Stone Age
Briton’s greatest achievement!
(
Period covered is from Late Stone Age to the brink of
Bronze Age.)

BRIEF LAYOUT OF THE STONEHENGE
Cutting across myths and legends archeologists
and geologists have tried to piece together the
Stonehenge Story,
Which stood like an enigmatic puzzle for the
last Five Thousand Centuries!
Scholars say construction commenced around
3000 BC, but progressed only in stages spread
over the next fifteen centuries.
Initially, a large earthwork or a ‘Henge’ with a
circular ditch and a bank was made,
With 56 timber posts around the inner perimeter
on the windy Salisbury plains.
Used by primitive man as a burial place, but for
rituals later got linked to other smaller sites.
With processional avenues leading to River Avon,
to honor dead ancestors with sacred rites!
Entrance to the ‘Henge’ was marked by a pair of
upright Slaughter Stones weighing 28 tones, and
6.6 meters tall.
But only one remains today lying flat on the ground
after its fall!
Some 256 feet from center of the ‘Henge’ on the NE
Avenue once stood the Heel Stones 7.6 meters high!
As a marker for the Summer Solstice showing the
position of the rising Sun in the Midsummer sky!

          BLUE STONES FROM WALES:
Some 1000 years later, 82 Blue Stones were brought
from the Prescelli Mountains of Southern Wales;
And the earlier timber posts with these Blue stones
was replaced.
Each stone weighing around 4 tones, was brought
over a distance of some 250 miles to the plains of
Salisbury,
Loaded on hollowed out log boats fashioned like a
mini barge, to sail during high tide into the Bristol
Estuary!
Pulled over land on greased wooden rollers, and
loaded again on mini barges down the River Avon.
Since Avon flowed closer to the ‘Henge’ site in those
ancient days, which is now known!
(Some Scholars feel that the Blue Stones were swept down
closer to the Salisbury plain, during the close of the last Ice
Age! These Stones were believed to have powers of magical
cure too!)

              THE SARSAN STONES
During its final phase of development came the larger
23 ft tall Sarsan Stones, weighing some 44 tones.
From 20 miles north of the ‘Henge’ area dragged on
sledges and rollers from Marlborough Downs.
These stones now formed the outer ring capped with
stone lintels, replacing the Blue Stones;
And the Blues Stones were moved inwards and
rearranged in the horseshoe and circle shape, as
presently seen and known!
(NOTE: Sheer muscle power used to drag the stones with ropes
made from plant fiber of the indigenous lime bark soaked in
water for weeks. Stone lintels were sculpted in the shape of an
arc to cap the SARSAN Stones to form the outer circle. Wooden
scaffolding & ramps were used to hoist and position the heavy
stone lintels horizontally on top of upright stones! Sarsan Stones
were hard sandstones tougher than granite! However many of the
stones of this Ancient Ruin are missing, leaving some unanswered
questions behind.)

        CONCLUDING THIS TRUE STORY
Archeologists and scholars using radiocarbon dating
have tried to recreate the Stonehenge Story.
This ancient ruin with many unanswered questions,
now remain protected as an Iconic Monument of
British History!
It stands as an astronomical time clock and is also of
spiritual significance;
It also symbolizes the ingenuity of Human Mind, its
power, and endurance.
I conclude with a an extract from a poem by TS Salmon
about the STONEHENGE here below:-
“Warpt in veils of time’s unbroken gloom,
Obscure as death and silent as the tomb.
Where cold oblivion holds her dusky reign,
Frowns the dark pile on Sarum’s lonely plain.

Yet think not here with classic eye to trace,
Corinthian beauty or Ionian grace.
No pillored lines with sculptured foliage crowned,
No fluted remnants deck the hallowed ground.
Firm, as implanted by some Titan’s might,
Each rugged stone up rears its giant height.
Whence the poised fragment tottering seems to throw,
A trembling shadow on the plain below.”
(*Sarum = old name for Salisbury.)
Thanks dear Readers for your kind attention span ,
I have simplified by cutting short many details the
best as I can!
ALL COPYRIGHTS WITH RAJ NANDY OF NEW DELHI
E-mail: rajnandy21@yahoo.in
Hank Roberts Nov 2012
I guess the metal is
bound leaf like.
I'm like the bubbles
of the rift; quickly formed
and quickly done. The
air inside happens only so long
I can escape to the
chromium metal and tease
the snakes. Let's see how
they like it.
Pollution is aprtheid.
Apartheid is man-made,
like the lake, the rubbermaid
containers. The earth
is a big etch a sketch.  This
will give geologists something to
figure out in a few thousand years.
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2013
Once it was just an innocent pick and shovel,
not much effort not much trouble,
Populations grew and demands exploded,
machines invented, more fuel was needed.
Trees were cut, factories built, coal discovered,
Smoke stacks billowed, still it was not enough!
And populations doubled.
  
Holes were drilled, to reach down deep,
"Black Gold" they said would be so cheap,
light the homes and run the ships,
drive the trains and keep the peace.  
Still it was not enough!
And the populations doubled!

**** the Earth, she can take it,
there is always more to exploit,
more to shamelessly profit from it.

Deplete the surface, Oh hell,
just go down deeper,
Oil all gone, well how 'bout shale?

A little recipe for disaster:
Drill multitudes of holes miles deep,
inject under extreme pressure,
thousands of gallons of water
imported from some great distance.
"Truck it in, ***** the expense!",
Add tons of harsh chemicals into this
volatile, polluting mix.
Blast deep strata with this brew,
until solid rock does crack,
Shale into gas and liquid gold,
Then bring it to the surface.

Now never mind the consequence,
That near by ground water as it flows
from out of household taps,
can be set afire by just the touch
of the lighted flame,
from a single just struck match.

And those now huge cracks deep
within the mantel of the Earth,
what of them I say,
Well not far below those cracks
is our molten lava core,
Just looking for escape.

Respected Geologists warn us of the risks,
Triggering quakes and huge volcano rips,
Yet the Fat Cats and their government,
still assures us, "never mind the consequence".

Ridiculous yes, perhaps suicidal,
As if the Captain of a submarine allowed his crew
to pound large nails into the body of his boat,
To hang up pictures of the Pope.

Again ridiculous you say,
Who would do such a insane thing?
The same **** guys that once owned the crews,
that swung that old pick and shovel,

A father to son inheritance,
by the same thieves, that manipulate our economy,
Riding the Bull up Wall Street and back down again,
All at their selfish greedy whims,
Never considering their corruption as any particular sin.

Those one percent spoilers who generation to generation,
continue to profit from their latest Big Business Gyration.
Even inventing a new name for this particular indiscretion,
Never even wincing, they straight faced lie with conviction,
and say hence,
"Hey folks, it's called Fracking, and you shouldn't mind
the consequence", 

So, it's profits over common sense,
The Fat Cats win again?  
My response to that,
Perhaps someone should FRACK them!

Now as to this just read little parable,
Less you dismiss it as some environmental fable.
The moral here is,
You glutinous greedy Big Oil Boys,
need to push back from the table!
A citizen lament for our Mother Earth .
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
symphony arrangement for poetry - personae distinctions of hidden violins and woodwinds, somewhere along the way brass - leaving Cabaret Voltaire (Zurich), moving to the Beat Hotel (9 Rue Gît-le-Cœur, Paris), ending up on the Cowgate (Edinburgh).

when you read newspapers you realise that dinosaurs roam
the land, the fortress of printing press, unlike the printing press
(which was taken seriously from the word go!)
the internet has been largely squandered; you read these
things in newspapers, the evolutionary reaction - ensuring that
among these dinosaurs are also opinion pieces, dinosaurs write accounts of what's happening, batrachotoxin amphibians write
opinions: i.e. what isn't happening: opinions go forward unchecked
and undisputed, added that there are many potions in the cauldron
it's hard to pick one out and dig deeper until both parties are in no position to hold such and such opinion, given the missing
muscle of implementing change or the skeleton to keep
the status quo - but this is a slight deviation from what i
was intending to convey - the old guard of printing is worried
sick that it might be usurped in the long run - it prints damaging
reports about the existence of the internet, looking at it as not
a niche environment, which it technically is - but cats, ****, cats,
****, apparently we all log on to meow and moan -
as a tool of entertainment it's the least thrilling source of
the desired "entertainment", the unscripted nature of this niche environment is what's actually good about it, in that a single
person can become both writer, editor and publisher -
but indeed, the internet has been squandered,
although it improved from what used to be a wholly anonymous
environment peppered with dangers of random encounters -
the infamous chat rooms changed even more to infamous
phone-books: you heard it, stories of cyber bullying - the internet
has been squandered, by all means, trying to save it is a bit like
trying to save the world, or as one Tao principle suggested to me
early on forged in me: the best way you can aid the world
is to forget the world, and let the world forget you.
a film director would say, well, i'm stuck in the house,
i'm thinking of shooting a biopic of Lawrence of Arabia...
i see a desert, a man riding a camel through it...
but you have to then start muling over the facts: you'll have to get funding, get the casting right,  but no one likes shooting in
the desert, you have to get  the catering sorted, you start shooting,
but the camera track ruins the desert, so you have to move
to another part of the desert that's pristine with wind parallel
ridges in the sand, then the studio calls you and says you're
spending too much money, then peter o'toole stumbles
out from the trailer hungover almost everyday; sure, you need inspiration and ideas, but that's only 1% or the whole,
99% is working with people - as a director you're not actually
playing god, you're helping other people, De Niro preferred
mumbling something prior to a scene, but Seymour Hoffman
went into a scene like a crocodile quickly snapping
to the shout of cut! and the clapperboard.
i suppose poetry could be like that too,
99% being the audience and the necessary oration,
that would work - unless of course you'd do the same with
painting - but whereas with painting you're invited to critical
thinking, see an artist next to his painting elaborating on
the themes and use of colours? i don't want to assert common sense
wisdom from one profession and apply the same wisdom
                                      to another with a trans-occupational
relativism: that red           is relative to               crimson -
              but we'll have to do away with lighting,
              darkening and what not, so yes,
red is relative to crimson insofar as we forget lighting
and Edward Hopper. anyone can appreciate the
lazy approach, but i took to some mammoths without the help
of audio books, a reasoning man, not a mob gob emotive conjurer worth a tonne of heckles and haggles - but i guess the dream
through this gamble would be the monetary reward...
you know... after so many years writing for peanuts i have lost
all appetite for spending money beyond what i consider
to be a workable cure for insomnia - i don't have to buy music
any more since i can stream it, i have more privacy without
a mobile phone, all i have is this little brick wall that's stationary
in this virtual jungle on which i scribble - with the radius from
this point being anything ranging from 1 to 6 sensible miles,
beyond 6 and we're talking blisters on feet; can you imagine what
our predecessors could endure in terms of walking? they had hoofs
instead of feet, while we have skin as smooth as a baby's buttock
cheeks on the soles of our feet. the strangeness of modernity:
1. a man drives a car with with a bicycle on the roof, just so he can    
    peddle down a scenic route...
2. the volume of skimmed milk bottle is the same as full fat milk,
    but if you bought full fat milk and added water to it the volume
    would triple (via semi, so yes, triple)...
3. healthy diets - 350% increase in vegan population
   in Britain over the past 10 years - the protein problem
   (once it was the fat problem, low fat yoghurt came about,
    turned everything into a sugar problem), i.e. women aged
    between 19 & 24 requiring to hit the 58 gram daily
    recommendation of protein would have to eat:

everyday foods
chicken breast (251g = 276Kcal)
eggs x4 (460g = 658Kcal)
salmon fillet (291g = 533Kcal)                                 v.

clean-eating foods
quinoa (1,318g = 1,582Kcal)
chia seeds (371g = 1,818Kcal)
                              goji berries (405g = 1,504Kcal)
                              kimchi (3,222g = 863Kcal)
                              tofu (707g = 70Kcal)
                              ******* (384g = 632Kcal)
                              coconut yoghurt (3,422g = 6,844Kcal)
almond milk (14,500ml = 3,625Kcal)
avocado (2,900g = 4,843Kcal)

  as healthy as stuffing turkeys for Thanksgiving, can you imagine
  drinking fourteen, fourteen litres of almond milk?! i don't even
  have to imagine drinking 700ml of whiskey to get the point
  and reach the threshold of the effectiveness of sleeping pills...
  no alcohol, no sleeping pills, better sit it out than take so near  
  ineffective buggers; although as a warning: you might end up
  sleeping for *12 hours
- variations on the BMI and previous habits
  of drinking - socially? not so much, medically? primarily -
  not in favour of the anti-alcohol lobby being part of the "safety"  
  guidelines given to the public...
4. charities' costs eat up 78% of donations,
    another 21st century anomaly, effectively dismissed
    by the church's alms giving history depicted in Sistine opulence,
    so no wonder whether in cardinal robes or suited and booted for
    the near-invisible secular religiosity, such poverty of symbolism
    compared with the predecessors, at least back then you'd
    know who to send to the guillotine - and this is how Louis XIV
    treated his courtesans, he made a certain type of clothing
    mandatory, a Versailles school uniform as it were,
    most the the courtesans went bankrupt having to buy the
    clothes, some pieces would be equivalent of a sports car,
    they went bankrupt to remain in the club,
    so they borrowed monkey from Louis, and so Louis kept
    them in his pocket: poor rich people, or necessary
    leeches (as once used in medicine, Louis' absolutism
    being the sole malady, abuse of power necessitates
    paranoia); or to quote Lisolette about the royal *******
    'mouse droppings in pepper.' Philippe (Duc d'Orléans)
    was the transvestite who charged into battle
    and conquered the Dutch, much to his brother's
    shame at having only made conquests in the bed - well
money here, money there, shoving a piano into a concert hall accompanied by an orchestra, something Chopin would never
do not wishing to leave the comforts of salons - although
Metallica dared to.
                                                             ­           welcome to
the age of silica and chameleons (cha cha cha champ a camcorder anyone? well, imagine what scrutiny Narcissus would pay a photograph, imagine giving a photograph to Narcissus and
wonder would he change his behaviour), get fooled by
the adverts once, second time you'll eventually see needing to feed
a charity's bureaucracy rather than an African, hence the migrant
                                                                                                    crisis...
sometimes there are no surprises as to where certain things
originate, Marxism and England, zenith of the empire,
or as historians claim, the decadence of the Romans was their fascination with food prior to the end: ready-meals and
microwaves among cooking shows, currently the daily program
of channels, esp. that of 4 is culinary and horse racing,
all the interesting programs are broadcast when everyone
is about to fall asleep... Saville bankrupted the B.B.C.
posthumously: a game show, "jackpot" of one grand.
- advertisement didn't expect live T.V., the mute button,
the pause button and the fast forward button...
but in a 100 years time if not more they'll look back at us as
having finally exhausted Groundhog Day (starring Bill Murray) -
sure, the technological breakthroughs were great, magical,
but the content? 20th century most probably,
the ideal time of fluid and at ease plagiarism - obviously
exceptions were made, but this walking nightmare
of the exhausted second half of the 20th century caught up
in the 21st century - dialogue replaced by visuals,
clash of the titans (1981) v. clash of the titans (2010) -
the only good bit of the latter is the inclusion of Hades -
it's beautiful, i'm nostalgic to a history i was born in and
belonged to, i'm not a nostalgic Nietzsche or Hölderlin
bumming about singing praises of the Ancient Greeks -
you see, it's close-at-heart nostalgia because i belonged to it,
the infant of it - a peculiar circumstance to be in; or coming
to terms with the first signs of decay: cartoon network's
cow & chicken with i r baboon - have you seen the horrors
of modern cartoons compared with computer graphics?
readies them to  pick up gaming soon after,
given gaming graphics. in summary - some say sitting behind
a computer screen is a sign of a lack of self-assurance,
or confidence, self- anything you want to suffix with, well,
that could be true, but you have a photograph included,
and the days of the typewriter are over - but i could also say
the same about certain brands or shops, are they too lacking
self-confidence to stop their existence on  the high street?
the royal mail delivers junk, you might get 100 junk envelopes
and a christmas  card... o.k. make that 1000 to 10,000 envelopes
of junk and one letter directly addressing you that hasn't been
written using an analogue like

dear mr. / mrs. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

we would like to inform you that your insurance
claim has expired.            etc.

the infancy of this century is what's deceptive, the greatest
deception i can think of - the great health scares and subsequent
over-usage of antibiotics breeding super-bugs in hospitals
anything and everything under the sun - including
that damnable idea that the planet Mars employs people whom
it's attracting into its orbit - earthly geologists must be bewildered
that the only subject of learning from all of man's
capacity to send into space is geology: and on the return flight
home we realised that we'd only be bringing back some arenite
(sandstone); that quote about about painting being 50 years
ahead of writing, the same is true with science fiction and
actual science.
She
who has climbed the mountain
in me
knows
that the mountain erodes
and falls back to
the sea
and
she
understands.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
god isn't inclusive of some father christmas role managed by a being that designates rewards and punishments, at best it's, in literary terms, defined by a complexity of the ego, after all, the original revelatory principle was staged with a pronoun complex: without any definite rational causality likened to the cartesian imperative: thought therefore being (think therefore be); that cartesian imperative is categorised as a pronoun per se which is enable other categorisations of words to be akin (per se): magnetically misunderstood; which leaves many demented, early on or later on, but in modern times would building a gigantic skyscraper with only one room in it to hide a torso's weight of gold and a mummified body keep sanity on tiptoe? god is a complexity of the ego, as far as words can be expressed, we loose the ambiguity expressed by existentialists, who favoured "ego" over god, to feel less responsible than anyone could allow for the surd-language, the language written down and rarely heard from orpheus' lapping tongue showcasing a sudden thirst for song.*

rapture and rhapsody! rapture, and rhapsody!
overcast heavens  with the moon shy,
and shy indeed i, by the time i reached
ezra's canto lxvii (what beauty was built with
these numerals, greater and more eloquent
pillared, so what greater truths did the latin poets speak;
if latin is dead then akin be usage of a, b, c, d, e...
when the usage of these symbols dies then i will fall dead
at the final blow of their dis-usage as if  belshazzar seeing
fluorescent hebrew written on the wall just when the ****
ended)... and god did not dispute the endurance
of the argument  to keep a and z...
because under the romans no odd architecture
was summoned, and the hebrew nation flourished
by many religious sects of pharisee and the
sadducees, for a religious dispute be born
from the bethlehem star, and no slavery, but,
some might say, idle talk, for christ created
the 7-day-working week of constant commerce
by contesting a meagre collection of wheat shafts
as the adequate rebellion, basically capitalism,
and in a hangar of sold goods, live lobsters looking
at ghosts, walking in aisles of ample goods
wasted, bearably sold, with cheap constant music
heard to hush the "ambiance" of refrigerator lungs
wheezing a pseudo-beehive drone...
where once the land held a unity,
now the one of owning land earning a shelter
of factories over-produce and leave us
staring into an oblivion of recycling
and such feasts that will never take place...
hence i given sway away from silence
and invoking ezra's vampiric trill, with the sole
proof of vampires, r, being allowed
the statement: trill r roll a wheel stamp with heel,
and i too will cast a shadow over my shadow
to reveal my soul...
hence come the vampiric trill from only one
consonant, and let the frenzied atom river of
lost mumble in the other hum, the lost om
of the m tremble the mountains to shave and slide
mud and weight of rocks from its sideburns of
eager explorers anticipating a gratifying view:
let then the trilled r, the wheel, keep momentum,
for the activity of sisyphus rolling the boulder up
the hill, let the trilled r keep his faith intact
with the futility of the prescribed endeavour;
and so i will die making avowals,
and you, you will die making vows, in the shade
of the tree yearning for distinct processes
should it be involved, so minutely animate encrusted
is wholly animate things, in order that by its
minute movements, it would clarify wholly inanimate
things beneath its categorisation of animation via tropism;
where then the inanimate if not wholly god
should the orbits of celestial orbs fail,
and geologists fail to investigate mineral gold,
and should water never govern oesophagus lubrication,
or loose animation of boiling, dry residue at 180°C,
and the bone breaking ice of antarctica?
the only inanimate thing in existence is god,
as based on a theory posed by kierkegaard about
the changelessness of god: indeed contradictory
by categorical filtering to say a stone is inanimate,
and we animate (microscopic perspectives),
but the stone is also part of a stone mechanised to orbit
a shuddering sphere of fire that emits light.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
WE DON'T HAVE THE TIME
FOR ASTRONAUTICAL
ARCHAEOLOGY OR GEOLOGY!
IN NAUTICAL TERMS
COPERNICUS SAID THAT
THERE'S NO EAST OR WEST
WITHIN THE GEOMETRIC
CONSTELLATION OF THE STARS...
THERE IS NO ARCHAEOLOGY ON MARS
THERE'S ONLY GEOLOGY -
WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR
ASTRONAUTS PLAYING THE GIMMICK
OF GEOLOGISTS...
IF THERE'S NO ARCHAEOLOGY WORTH
INSPECTING ON MARS,
THEN ALL GEOLOGY WILL
ONLY PROVIDE US A GEOLOGY
we could easily find carbon dating on earth...
mind you, didn't we like ******* too much?
WE DON'T HAVE THE TIME -
WE DON'T HAVE THE TIME -
UNLESS YOU WANT IT TO BECOME
A CINEMATIC PROPHESY OF
THE RICHEST GET OFF FIRST AND
BY BEING FIRST THE ONLY ONES TO GET OFF;
THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NO *******
REASON TO FICTIONALISE OUR SITUATION;
GET IT?!
I GET IT... THERE'S ONE PANIC ATTACK
PRIOR TO THE TSUNAMI, AND NO ONE MINDS...
THEN THEY ARE KNEE-DEEP IN
SEAWATER, THEN "SUDDENLY" EVERYONE
REMEMBERS THE WEATHERMAN PROPHETIC
ABOUT THE WEATHER ON MONDAY
AND "CARING" WHETHER YOU TOOK OUT
YOUR UMBRELLA OR NOT...
AND YOU THINK... SHOULDN'T I'VE HAD
A WASTED THOUGHT RATHER THAN WASTING
TIME IN THE UNDERGROUND LABYRINTHS
DURING THE BLITZ... WELL... A WASTED
TIME, BUT HARDLY A WASTED SPACE,
SINCE YOU'RE THERE, A SINE OR A COSINE
CURVE OF CONTINUITY...
AND NOT A TANGENTS CURVE OF:
HERE ONE MINUTE / GONE THE NEXT...
well, wouldn't we all like to enshrine our politics
as the pinnacle, and our lack of co-operation
as the dire foreseeable exclusion to mind the
ecclesiastical Eden of our hopes ****** minding
the flag of Wales prior to the unearthing of
the fire-breathing lizard skeletons; at least we gave hope
to the third and last world - who will lazily
accept its fate as if a brightly lit room
and the mammalian candle extinguished without
a sadistic approach to industrialise the poll of death.
Olivia Massey Jul 2014
When you left, it made me think about the way geologists had to come up with words for how the continents broke apart.
The ground had rumbled for quite some time
It was only a minor quake,
The people grumbled, it came and went
But it kept them all awake,
‘They say there was a volcano here
A billion years ago,
But it’s long since dead, the geologists said,
And there’ll be no lava flow.’

They’d built the suburb on rising ground,
And roads, right up to the peak,
The ground was rocky and unforgiving
The soil was grey and weak,
So little grew on that rising crest
Just the odd saltbush or so,
They couldn’t drill through the rock beneath
To help their bushes grow.

I would venture out and would take the air
When the house cooled down at night,
But always felt there was something there
That would make me feel uptight,
I felt the rumble, under my feet
It was like a muffled roar,
And I thought a whimsical thought one night,
It was like an old man’s snore.

One night I wandered up to the crest
And I saw two bushes move,
They seemed to tremble and flutter there
Just above a ball shaped groove,
The rumble stopped as I stood and watched
From under the starlit skies,
The bushes opened to crystal orbs,
Just like a pair of eyes.

They fixed me there in their crystal stare
And I didn’t dare to breathe,
The summit started to shake and move,
And then it began to heave,
The houses built on the crest fell down
It was like a huge hiccup,
And I fell tumbling to the ground
As the Mountain God stood up!

David Lewis Paget
ray Jul 2014
i've decided
i do miss the way you said my name
in the most innocent, casual sense
i dont even think you meant to say it
and i don't think i really heard it,
but i hear it now.
i feel my heart sink a bit closer to the floor once i realize
the sound of your voice is beginning
to transform into a memory, something foreign, something i don't know.
you spoke your tones through my name, sometimes your anger,
sometimes your apologies
attempting to vent what i feel through the bottom of my pen familiarizes me with what it was like for geologists to come up with words for how the continents fell apart,
and why planets can't be planets anymore.
your voice had varying volume levels just like my love for you and i'm sorry i'm bad at timing,
bombs come with warning labels,
and the nights i couldn't speak, i pointed
at mine.
and the nights i could speak, i told you,
you shouldn't await your detonation.
i tried
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
the ethos of arbeit has overpowered the english speaking people, with a sarcastic notion of liebe, and made both work, and love, arbitrary, nay, nasally said: homophilic: too many phobias are spoken off, spiders in the guise of arachnophobia don't suddenly become islam! you see any gigantus aranea roaming the streets?! for the most part, i'm closer to see popes walk naked in a francis bacon sketch of the affairs... let's be honest, the holy ghost has become run over by the other spirit, the other phrase of sophia, the zeitgeist, not this church infested cockroach colony of the platzgeist with a few crimson cardinals numbed into mumbling their mea culpas ave marias... the senile old ******* just died, with: a few more thousand young men, born into a world without having to succumb to the "tender" female noir of a bambi (transgender times, live with it) harem ******* occupiers in the form of: zee heff! i'll be crying as much when, some other public personage dies... although i did grit my teeth when my great-grandmother died, managed to bite off a scalpel of tooth with my other tooth... funny, i can still tongue the canyon proof.

and it's the antithesis of the # (hashtag) generation,
namely? the súdokū...
   plus the english ******* explanation of
needing the hyphen, as a diacritical mark
to ease, sorry, forget the poncy ***** ******
talk of "proper": lubricate the dissection
of cutting a word open into alphabet street...
   it would otherwise look more like su-dough-coup
with the p in bracket form ( ), since the french
over the antithesis of dyslexia compared
to the english, they just add letters that do not,
require attendance / mention.
          but that's the case, every time i solve
this *** sushi riddle i can't but compare it to
the zeitgeist of the hashtag...
              so i perch on a windowsill like a
wake of vultures of a lion reaching gluttony scene,
and start thinking: hey, how about we pair up
and pecker off that sod of a robert plant?
give him the curly wurly momentum,
start to peck at his ***,
  and then give him a vulture's barber effect
of trichotillomania?
there's bound to be a lesson in that,
    what with ol' hef gone, we only 'ave to
worry aboot the hoff...
             ha ha... when hef met hoff,
           and the **** never stopped,
even leaving king solomon a tad bit jealous.

i sit on a pile of rubble, and call it a castle -
time ref. to counter the darwinist -
and yes, the saharan desert was once a
mountain range akin to the alpes - or the himalayas -
as any chemist would, side with the geologists
than than the biologists: mushy mushy doesn't
buy my effort, the biologists just expanded
history, we might as well make the *other

connection, between desert and mountain,
ergo: time,
       takes a lot of it,
          pretty much as much as space,
             apes have become debased genesis foci...
too many variations of it,
you'd have to start with eskimo and say:
  well: the orangutans seemed pleased with
a down syndrome replica...
                so just the chimps? no gorillas?
i still like my counter darwinism argument,
the counter biology, the lost mushy mushy
cushioning of certainty -
    like any chemist, i live for the hard stuff,
comes no harder than siding with geology,
saying: the epitome of times comes in
the form of the saharan mountain range,
that, given enough time (and we have a lot of
that now) - eroded into a sand-dial...
    irony, or divine intuition?
          and didn't the bible give off a whiff of:
and then a dinosaur went into eden:
   hey, be gods, try to, even,
  watch out, a ******* meteor might just come;
there's no fundamentalism contained
in a book that was written by an egyptian
prince...
    just a lack of poetic integrity in the interpretation...
i still don't see how poetry is slagged,
but the basic tenet of poetic writing is
taken, without a pinch of metaphor,
or counter-metaphor, in that it can be expanded
and be applied like a philosopher's stone,
to turn any known material into gold!

which brings me to another point, well, two,
how do you gain respect from the cats
you're petting?
             you sleep longer than they do.

point 2...

why has reading become such a "tedium" /
"accomplishment" -
   i'll tell you why, i don't like a language
of thinkers, i live a language realm of babblers...
the right to say blah is worth more than
the right to think oh...
                speaking has become too easy,
solidified by that fact that (if not even est.)
when someone writes a book, it becomes,
oh, the most glorious accomplishment!
     wow... these people really managed to
shut their gobs, and write a book?!
         wow... it's like seeing the fruition of
the event that didn't take place, that would have
been the out-doing of the hebrew architectural
tenure on the pyramids, that would have been
the hanging gardens of babylon,
that was, eventually, the poor nebuchadnezzar
crawling and snorting like a pig for seven years...
if you thought the pyramids were
a mad idea,  
    the jews finally solved the riddle exclaiming:
o.k., you know what, that's just
bonkers... you're about as mad as your hyena
grandfather, or father, or whatever he was
for asking to the seas to obey him by whipping
them (xerxes)...
  it's that unamazing to write a book these days...
or it really is, given that you have ghosts
writing them...
       ****, and they said the paranormal
didn't exist... really? ghost writers?
       maybe that's one of the reasons that when
don juan wrote his memoir,
  after bouts of not getting any, he invited
himself to a better pastime than jerking off...
well, might as well die a boring sod since
i'm not getting any, any more...
       me? i always thought of jerking off as
performing ****...
     i can't imagine the hand to be anyhow
different to the muscular ****...
    and for some reason,
i always end up thinking of the queen of england
waving: to add the seasoning of lacklustre
to the whole affair:
  like i'm there, but not really, there -
the roy orbison effort to make that:
strenuous effort at opera -
     and he was hardly the modern comparison
of a pop star with neck arteries protruding;
and he's still better than elvis.

word of wisdom:
  in the medium of poetry?
write by one technique, and one technique
alone...
          digression...
well, that's how i was taught english,
by a pict.
RAJ NANDY Feb 2022
Dear friends, this poem was posted on the ''Facebook'' last month along with maps and photographs, and was much appreciated. Unfortunately, I am unable to post any maps or photos on this Site! I post on the 'Facebook' these days which provides greater visibility & interaction! Hope you like this composition, - Best wishes, - Raj, New Delhi. Feb. 2022.

DATING EVENTS OF ANCIENT HISTORY : BY RAJ NANDY

FURTHER WE GET BACK IN TIME, WE ENTER THE FOG AND MIST OF THE PAST,
WHEN KNOWLEDGE BECOMES INSECURE, AND SPECULATIONS AND GUESS WORK STARTS!
WHEN WE ENTER THE REALM OF LEGENDS AND MYTHS
TO ENTERTAIN OURSELVES WITH FANCIFUL FACTS,
WAITING FOR HISTORY TO TAKE SHAPE, BASED ON RESEARCHED WORK AND VERIFIED FACTS!
IN OUR NOBLE PURSUITS AND ENDEAVOUR OUR ARCHIEOLOGISTS, GEOLOGISTS, ANTHROPOLOGISTS, - ALL COMBINE TO HELP US;
AND THEY HAVE INDEED HELPED OUR MODERN HISTORIANS, TO UNRAVEL MANY HIDDEN MYSTERIES
OF THE PAST!

NOW WHEN IT COMES TO DATING EVENTS OF THE ‘ANCIENT HISTORY’, IT MUST BE REMEMBERED BY
ALL OF US,
THAT EXACT DATES OF EVENTS CANNOT BE MADE AVAILABLE TO US!!
SINCE DATES ARE BASED ON INTERPRETATIONS OF ARCHIEOLOGICAL FINDINGS  MADE BY OUR  
LEARNED SCHOLARS,
WHICH HAS KNOWN TO VARY BY A CENTURY, OR
EVEN BY MANY MORE YEARS!!
SO IT IS WITH FACTS OF ANCIENT HISTORY, WHERE
WE CAN NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN,
WETHER HOMER WAS REALLY BLIND, OR THAT HIS EPICS WERE DICTATED BY HIM OR WRITTEN?
THE TROJAN WAR IS THOUGHT TO HAVE TAKEN PLACE BETWEEN 1200 AND 1150 BC,
BETWEEN THE MYCEANEAN GREEKS AND THE TROJANS,
IN THE NORTH-WESTER CORNER OF PRESENT-DAY TURKEY.
IT WAS A PERIOD WHICH SAW THE COLLAPSE OF THE MYCENEAN BRONZE AGE CIVILIZATION.
COMMENCING THE 400 YEARS OF “THE DARK AGES” IN GREECE, -ABOUT WHICH WE HARDLY HAVE ANY NOTION!
SO SCHOLARS HAD RELIED ON SEVERAL ARCHIEOLOGICAL DIGS, WHILE COMPOSING ANCIENT TROJAN HISTORY.
WHICH WE NOW GET TO READ, THOUGH SURROUNDED BY FEW MYTHS AND MYSTERIES!

NOW THE SEVEN LAYERS OF THIS TROJAN CITY WAS DUG UP  IN THE 19TH AND THE 20TH CENTURIES AT PLACE CALLED ‘HISARLIK  TELL’;              (Tell = is a mound)
WHICH WAS A MAN MADE MOUND BUILT ONE ON TOP OF THE OTHER, WITH MANY HIDDEN MYSTERIES AS WELL!
SO THE CITY OF TROY DID EXIST, AND A TROJAN WAR MIGHT HAVE ALSO TAKEN PLACE.
BUT THE REAL CAUSE FOR THIS WAR REMAINS ELUSIVE,
AND OUR  SCHOLARS CAN ONLY GUESS!
WE GO BY GENERAL CONSENSUS AMONG SCHOLARS WHO SPOKE OF MARTIME RIVALRY BETWEEN THE MACENEANS AND THE TROJANS,
FOR CONTROLLING THE SHIPPING LANE TO THE BLACK SEA UP NORTH, BY SAILING ACROSS THE WATERS OF
THE AEGEAN.      (Map here cannot be shown on this site!)
NOW AS FOR “THE FACE THAT LAUCHED A THOUSAND SHIPS” WHICH WE FIND IN CHRISTORHER MARLOW’S ‘DR. FAUSTUS’ DURING LATER DAYS;
WELL, IN THOSE ARCHEOLOGICAL DIGS THERE ARE NO TRACES OF ANY ADULTEROUS LOVE, OR OF FAIR HELEN’S BEAUTIOUS FACE!

FRIENDS, LET US NOT FORGET THE BRITISH AUTHOR JK ROWLING,  WHO BECAME ONE OF THE RICHES FEMALE NOVELISTS OF OUR WORLD;
WITH HER ‘HARRY POTTER’ SERIES WHICH DESCRIBES A LEGENDARY, MAKE-BELIVE AND A FANTASY  WORLD!!
NOW AS A POET I DO LOVE THE MYTHS  AND LEGENDS OF THE PAST, IMAGINING THAT THEY ARE TRUE,
BUT WHEN IT COMES TO ‘DATING EVENTS’ OF ANCIENT HISTORY MY FRIENDS,
I REMAIN AS SKEPTICAL, OR EVEN AS GULLIBLE AS YOU!!
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
NOTES:  IN ANCIENT GREECE HISTORICAL DATING IS SAID TO HAVE COMMENCED WITH THEIR FIRST OLYMPIC GAMES HELD DURING 776 BC, WHICH FOLLOWED A CYCLE OF A FOUR YEAR PERIOD, WHICH HELPED IN THEIR SUBSEQUENT DATINGS.  ARTIST’S IMPRESSION OF THE OLYMPIC GAMES HAVE BEEN POSTED FOR YOU.   - By Raj Nandy, New Delhi, Jan. 2022.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2022
that's the second time i was offered to have a *******, i honestly wasn't ready for this one; Khedra was telling me that the girl with the glasses was in a good mood, she stressed it as: she's really, really in a good mood, how about you give us extra and i tell her to come up? i replied: i've just come back from a 12 hour shift, i'm only after a quickie... SLAP... well yeah! i slap her *** during *******, pinch her, bite her... i follow the Kama Sutra to an exactness, obviously i have read it... i know that some women don't get it, but the ones that do? well... it makes ******* all the more fun, after all, we're not slimy mollusks wriggling about, there's more to us than mere caressing and *******... you don't have to **** out all the alternative kinks, although... i'd love to enlarge the ****** to a full body latex suit... i'm not going to lie...

she clearly missed me, i missed her,
but when she came back she knew i was already with
two other girls, Michaela and... oh my god...
i forgot her name: but not her face...
the one that talked too much during ***...
i hate talking during ***:
i don't need "god" in the bedroom...
eyes speak for the eyes,
lips speak for the lips,
phallus speaks for the phallus...
etc.
            but in Khedra's presence i couldn't
just... pick someone else...
i picked her because i knew i'd be guaranteed
unprotected ***...
that's how the rock rolls as it were...
you establish a trust with a woman when
she sees your approach to hygiene...
and then she doesn't even bother asking for more
money... hell... oral and actual genital interaction
unprotected... i forgot how good it feels:
although, like i already mentioned:
i'm also a big fan of condoms...
why? you never know how a woman will
put it on... it varies so greatly...
one will **** it on... another will stretch it
and put it on... various techniques...
  some will look you in the eyes others prefer
not to look: probably reimagining you as
some monster...
i'm no Don Juan, not some Casanova:
my pockets are not that deep...
                        i'm a crustacean lover...
                               sure... if i had more money to shower,
buy gifts... alas: all i have is Ovid's lament
to girls... i can... give them a book of my poems...
a ****** gift, i know... but hey: beggars can't be choosers...
but i knew Khedra missed me...
why? she wanted to be on top this time round...
she usually wants me to arch over her
and do her... sorry: take her to the monastery
of missionaries from Portugal in Japan
(some ******* of my own, thinking)...
i was startled at the fact that i left a ******* imprint
in her...
she sat on my slid it in: right...
*****... it's like with bras... it takes rigid fingers
to undo a bra... the whole point of penetrating a woman's
******? you don't aim for the floral pattern for the *****:
that's for oral ***...
   for the gob to slobber all over it... tongue whirlwind...
when penetrating? you're basically "pretending"
to be aiming for the *******... the distance between
the ****** entry point and the ******* is pretty short...
it's strange how it works...
but i knew she missed me because she recognised
me... already two or three cowgirl giddy-up attempts
of her and she was having those hot-shivers...
she was quivering... hey!
she had to stop from time to time because:
the hot-shivers were attacking her...
    no... of course it wasn't a full ******... but a microcosm
of one...

point being: i didn't ask for permission to try all
the other girls... she told me, she told me:
YOU HAVE TO TRY ALL THE OTHER GIRLS...
she also asked me... tell me, truthfully:
which did you prefer? Michaela, the short fat
girl with ******* or the girl who was sitting opposite
me? the tall, legs to the heavens?
so i told her... the former...
i had a thing for this pornographic actress...
oddly enough also Romanian: Jasmine Black...
and i was like... i need to find me someone similar...
hey presto! Michaela!
the exact proportions: i wouldn't say fat,
i'd say: a pretty plump plum of a woman...

Khedra just kept slapping my chest...
i just kept slapping her ***... biting her chin:
the usual round of bollocking...
i'm done with the English approach to ***...
double standards: yeah: ooh ooh... keep it in the bedroom!
shh! shh! and then once in the bedroom!
all the ugly kinks come out...
all those ungodly conversations: "conversations"
about mummies, daddies and "god" knows what else...
there's no talking when i'm *******:
again... i will no desecrate the altar of this much
pleasure by bringing: and in the beginning there was
the word and the word was with god...
and it was... ever heard of an Eclectus or a Quaker
Parakeet talk, without man talking first?
no! in the beginning only the gods could talk...
mind you... hmm: ooh! ooh!
if Prometheus (the titan) brought down fire to men
and was punished for it by the gods...
who brought down the word (communication,
writing) down from the gods to be left among
men?! who?! who?!
was it not the jealous god, who's name i will not utter
but encrypt?! so the Hebrew deity
would be seen... in the Greek mind...
as a Titan! well... no wonder he's jealous:
the people who venerate him are constantly punished!
why? if Prometheus was punished for brining
to man the fire... the Hebrews are punished for the fact
that their deity brought down "telepathic" communication:
writing, scribbling... and the gods watched
on and saw: well... ****'s going to hit the fan proper
when they start scribbling graffiti on cement walls
thinking they're ****** clever...
dyslexia strong! they'll muddle up the sounds
and overcomplicate their spelling(s)!

i love it... writing *** and about the gods...
it's like the perfect combination for... ah ha ha: disaster...
the days of scientific rationalisation are over:
it's time to return to mythology -
look at it this way: mythology is the antithesis
of journalism: i'm sort of having a backlash
from all the journalism: degraded journalism,
tabloid rather than investigative journalism:
we're not talking high quality journalism
of All the President's Men... we're talking trash:
at best a journalist tells me that X happened at Y...
or there's the editorial section of a newspaper
where i get opinions: a cul de sac of opinions...
since, it's the "rhetoricians'" corner... what sort
of dialectic do you think newspapers allow?
    it's slim... with those "letters" to the editor...
journalism as shambles...

    as i'm writing this i'm gazing at the most beautiful
in heaven... a late summer lightning storm...
lightning without: either thunder or rain...
as if the sky was a giant jellyfish + brain and i'm seeing
it think... wrestle with itself...

- i honestly don't know why i allowed the *******
of my cats give them names...
but they stuck... shouldn't the owner of the pet give
his pet a name, rather than allow the ******* to name them?
QUORUS... honestly? it's not that bad...
quo rus: where are you going, Russian?
and he's ginger... fair enough... makes sense now...
but he's what? 7+ years old...
so... back in the day any conflict with Russia didn't
make sense... my cat's name just makes sense now...
i didn't name him... perhaps: qua rus,
id est: as being Russian... Quorus?! are you a Russian?!
last time i heard Maine ***** came from Maine:
north America...

mind you: Andrew Lloyd Webber got it spot on in
Cats... when he, or whoever did: wrote that cats don't
have one name, they have several names...
they have a name for whatever i feel like calling it...
my female Maine **** is usually
called ヤマモト (ya-ma-mo-to) whenever she's
imploring to be let in to the house:
but in her persistent silence, she just sits by the door
giving no indication to be let in...
i forget how many names i have given Quorus...
but i sometimes: secretly give him the name
******... but that's between me and him...
either ****** or AZRAEL... poor ******...
each time i go into the garden to refill my cup with ice-cubes...
i leave the bedroom: he's sleeping quietly
as if pretending to be a cushion...
the moment i leave he's up and standing on the spot
of the windowsill where i perch to drink and smoke...
looking out for me...
whether or not i will return or not...
then he'll jump onto the roof above the kitchen
and play the CERBERUS' role... watching the lightning
storm (without thunder or rain) with me...

hmm... what happened today?
today i was relaxing after a mammoth shift juggling
over the weekend... i didn't feel like doing much...
i cleaned the house... because i'm a ******* pedantic...
i need the house to be clean:
i can't allow my parents to clean the house for themselves:
my mother's arthritis doesn't allow me to just
leave a massive stink... mind you: it felt so pointless
vacuuming... i wasn't picking much dirt from
the floors... and then obviously mopping the floors...
i like the smell of citrus on wood...

then? a quick bicycle session on my Trek Merlin 5
"Rolls Royce"... recycling empty glass bottles...
buying a whiskey and some pepsi-cola...
oh... and some MAJOR good news...

what's for dinner? pizza... homemade, what else?!
there's probably one thing i love making more than
ice-cream... esp. mint choc-chip ice-cream...
one day i'll make me chocolate ice-cream...
i hate chocolate ice-cream...
i have this fine potent mint growing in my garden...
the ice-cream came out amazing:
i didn't even have to add any artificial colouring:
just the right sort of colour... pale green...
much much paler than the colour of my irises...

ENDLICH, REGEN!
         ich brauchen wasser für mein bäume im mein garten!

but there's only one thing that gives me more pleasure
than making ice-cream... ooh...
making pizza-dough! i love sculpting that
*** of a lazy lady of yeast... the smell of yeast
is about as intoxicating as the scent of wet
rosemary or thyme or mint in the night
when it rains and rains and rains...
nothing can compare to making pizza-dough:
well, apart from making mint choc-chip ice-cream...
or synthesising esters in a chemical laboratory...
or synthesising polyester...
the event horizon on that ***** of an experiment:
ha ha... two liquids... and you're just pinching
the "good stuff" from the two liquids not mixing...

like i told one coworker: i rather enjoy listening
to music when i fall asleep...
but... but.
if it starts raining? and i'm about to fall asleep?
the music is turned off and i fall into a lullaby
of a symphony of necessary tears...
some people would tell me that there's no Bach in rain:
i.e. that there's no polyphony that can be ascribed
to rain: i **** right disagree...
that's like saying the sound of the sea is the same
as the sound a river generates or for that matter
a lake... or... a foot stepping into a puddle...
or the sound of a waterfall...

it's only a Monday and i'm already exited for the week ahead...
i couldn't wait for today because i knew i would
be recharging... father's lunch for tomorrow?
sweet peppers and sliced iceberg salad as the base...
on top? pancetta, strawberries,
goat's cheese... figs... with a balsamic glaze dressing...
tomorrow? Khedra didn't appreciate my ****** outgrowths...
she told me, strictly: your kissing is prickling me...
i agreed... my moustache is too long...
i ought to know better... it becomes half a bother
and a bother fully to boot when my moustache
"wets itself" when i take a sip of ms. amber's metaphorical
**** juices...
of course i'm still growing the FU MANCHU...
upon strict orders of the Turk... my love-patch needs
to be as long as my actual beard... and my beard needs
to hide my entire neck...

so tomorrow... i'm excited about visiting my Turkish barber
and getting a trim...
that's tomorrow...
Thursday? i'm off to the brothel to ****... simple as
1 + 1 = 2... i'll do the West Ham shift, finish at 10:30 and
then get my silly ***** wet...
maybe have a *******, maybe not...
i'm paying back a debt... i already stashed half of it
(£200) in my writing desk... i'll take out £200 more tomorrow...
a ******* Lynyrd Skynyrd sing-along
when you're debt free and only working on a debt-system
without any credit... i never understood
the point of the credit system...
why, would, you, use, credit?
why, spend, money, you, don't, have?
after working level 5 at Wembley... for that... tribute
concert for Taylor Hawkings... the managers asked me...
do you suffer from vertigo?!
which vertigo?!
the height vertigo?! didn't i tell you that i used
to be a roofer?! i must have...

height vertigo? yeah... i sometimes have this wild "idea"
in my head when i'm standing at a decent amount of height...
my legs start trembling, i start to grip some barrier...
some stable object... why? i start thinking about jumping
down! that's my height "vertigo": i start thinking that:
just perhaps i have a parachute or an exoskeleton!
although i have another "vertigo": it's a monetary "vertigo"...
i hate to be in debt... i never spend on credit...
either i have the money and spend it...
or i don't have the money and, ergo: don't spend it...
i abhor monetary "vertigos"...
     of course i think about money...
some people are geologists... some people are economists...
it's not that hard to confuse the two,
equating: pebbles = coins...
after all... what are coins? if not peanuts... certainly not
peanuts... then most certainly pebbles:
nuggets of copper with insignia:
"things" of "value" that are only allocated value
because someone said so:
like the usual critique of religion... it's all man-made...
sure... and economy is also man-made...
i abhor gold: i could never don a gold ring on my fingers...

sure... press some gold into a circle...
slap a pretty face like that of ol' Lizzy on it! hey presto!
"value"... otherwise, what?
mind you: a tickling on my legs...
it finally started raining... a spider was made into
a... a... banana-boat man...
escaping conflict of rain... i picked him up from
my tickled leg... put him on my hand...
dropped him off on my private library's shelf...
on... level 3... the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam...
i should get some flies for him at some point...

eh... spiders... flies... foxes... it's not like they're
exotica that certain women like...
i just figured it out... the men women choose to mate
with... oh! it's so certainly most necessary
for the men to have "sleeves"... yeah... at least one
hand covered in tattoos! women love men with
sleeves... the only "tattoos" are on my brain...
but i've witnessed the aesthetic of reproduction...
on the sly... the men with sleeves get to...
oh this one dude... i could "hear" his testosterone being slurped
up when he was giving the duties of daddy
with the buggy watching over his 2 week old babe...
or that guy two doors down...
mate! you're ******! why? you mother-in-law
is coming to see you 5 times a day! you're living about
20 metres from her! you're ****** mate!
me? i have ms. amber and philosophy for company!
i don't think i could talk to a woman: "privately"
outside a specified environment...
sure... women try... we talk on shifts...
if i have to be cold and exacting: exclusive...
hell... this one manager tried it with me today...
blah blah this... blah blah that...
so i replied to his "ha ha": fair enough...
i'll be more EXCLUSIVE next time...
      
                     i know that they employ complete air-heads...
retards... and they are licesened as security "guards":
i was telling my coworker: i'm really reluctant to get
the "baddge"... for (1) the hours are longer...
for (2) the pay is not much greater...
for (3) i only want to do this part-time,
don't get me wrong... it's great... but it's only great
when i say it's great... not when "management"
tells me it's "great"....
there's probably a point (4) and a point (5)...
but... ah... whatever...

hmm... it's back to Andrew Lloyd Webber
and the Cats musical lyrics,
coupled with the 13th Warrior transcript...
between
            Ahmed íbn Fahdlan íbn...
  and Herger... íbn this íbn that... name? IBN...
ha ha... that's like with cats...
Quorus "íbn" AZAEL "íbn" AZRAEL "íbn"
RYCERZ ZAKUTY-ŁEB....
   i.e. knight-mutton-headed...
a mutton-headed-"knight"...
                 chained-head... i too thought that
cats ought to be by the fireplace when it rains...
this one? prefers the company of the activities' of dogs...
i wish i owned a dog... instead?
i own a cat with an invisible leash...
he doesn't go far... i wish i owned a dog for the simple
reason that he might eat what i ate: letft-overs...

but i can't wait for Wednesday... the woman doing
my mother's nails called up: she's having trouble with her
1 year old toddler...
it was supposed to be a Saturday for my mother
getting her nails done...
i just sat there...
she can do Wednesday... but she has to drop off her
autistic older girl and come with "that" BAHOR
(crying baby) to a manicure and pedicure session...
but the baby is a RUGRAT... a little DEMON...
ooh! ooh!
me me! me me!
i just heard that there might be an issue...
i jumped in my head: hit the imaginary ceiling
then came back down (no glass)... i can do it!

come to think of it... cats are predictable creatures...
why? they're changeless...
but babies?! oh wow! it's like i'm back
in a chemistry lab... but instead of dealing
with potent substances... i'm dealing
with the "non-existence" of a soul!
i love it! i love it more than slapping prostitutes
riding me while they slap me in the face
and i slap them in the ***...
that's not true... the only girl that ever slapped me
in the face was Ilona... a Russian rich girl poor boy's wet-dream...
Khedra slapped me in the more appropriate place
while admiring my chest and stomach hair...
pinching my *******...

i'm going to have the time of my life on Wednesday...
i'll be baby-sitting! what's wrong with baby-sitting!
at worsst and at best she'll be pulling at my beard
and i'll be reversing the "talking parrot" sounds
of mimic... i'll be clucking... she'll be clucking back...
i'm too STEM orientated to think about life
subjectively... i'll be a male with a baby in my arms
on Wednesday... and a ******* in my arms
on a Thursday...

of course i'm going to take a picture!
i love babies... it will be so unlike petting a cat...
but it will be like petting a cat...
but unlike a cat: babies are forever unpredictable...
i'll slow down on drinking the "amber juice":
why? i want to have some fun with a baby...
i hope we can do whatever it necessary to
not relate... like the memory of my great-grandfather
in the kindergarten... him as a shadow
playing the big piano and me playing the toy piano...

MALVINA... that's the BAMBINO'S name...
the first girl i ever fell in love with:
i must have have been 6.... she was this albino blonde...
and her name was MALVINA...
this is going to be such a trip (if it happens)...
she's going to be pulling at my beard...
i'll be looking into her eyes
of disorientation...
thank god... she's not mine...
i can gladly keep watch of children that don't belong
to me... more willingly than you think...
i couldn't... some ideas need brushing up on...
i need to keep an eye on those...
but... from time to time?
if i get to become a baby-sitter?
i'll be a baby-sitter...
it's a welcome alternative to having to please
prostitutes...

hmph!
perhaps i'm an arrogant "****"... today i walked to
the local saying good-afternoon to one old woman...
saying another hello
to: hello Matthew... hello Matthew...
we grabbed each other's hands like in the 1950s
movies... when two Roman noblemen greet each
other... i.e. shook arms instead of hands...
we pulled the left hand on top of the hands
shaking: so? the four-hand-greeting...

there's something special about acquiring the "familial":
locus orientation that 20th century cosmopolitan
existentialism simply missed...
i can't wait for Wednesday... twice: thrice better than
sleeping with prostitutes... a sample of fatherhood...
i just... eh... what can you do?
it's not up to me... is it?
i can't exactly make women choose what's
to be chosen... if they chase after idiots.. idiotic times...
i came to one single mother once...
the one that "thought" she smelled alcohol on me...
i came back to her:
with homemade wine: cloudy... so? i chose
Franziskaner Hefe Weissbier...
you, girl, are going to drink my homemade:
cloudy wine... i'll drink...
a coorporaate cloudy beer with you...
single mum... her son's name? Friedrich...
i read his poem out-loud to him...
i also brought around a homemade banana loaf...
***** wasn't buying the myth...
oh well...  a guy comes round on a bicycle:
he has a banana loaf... homemade wine (cloudy)...

there's this much of love i am willing to give!
beyond that... ON YOUR, *******, WAY!
there's no point!
you've been hurt, i've been hurt... no!
i'm happy to just deal with a woman who needs
baby-sitting... doing my mother's nails...
needing someone to take take of her baby...
i'll do! i'll do! i'll do it!

it's ******* sad... for however much you want
to love: you're told to love less...
and by the same amount of "less":
you're asked to love "more"!

to love as yourself: you're never going to love
yourself as there might be a male "self"
to speak of: you ******* idiot!
you're a ******* toothpick in the waterfall!
i'm not saying "man-up": i'm just saying...
there are reality checks in place...
why do you think all the grandmas are *******
grandmas beginning and ending with?
where are the men?
in, a place, allocating, the most, bothered, men...
their... safeguard... from... interacting... with...
women....
me? i like to be the mediator...
that's me... between ******* and toddler...
eh... "ring baron" of a woman of: "beached whale"
value... what?!

that's Wednesday though... toddler Malvine is
here on Wednesday...
tomorrow's a Tuesday... that's a trip to Istanbul
for a beard trim...

i lost my beard-envy when i heard this one
Arab colt say: i love your beard, sir!
sir?! beard? i have a beard?!
i need to trim my mustache to kiss her in a way
she wants to be kissed...
but a beard?
i can't wait for Malvina... the toddler...
i want those:
chubby-bubbly-bub-bub-cheeks pressed
against mine... pretending to be a father
knowing that i'm not: a father...

i want cheese on top of the toast!
i want to keep all the Talmud secrets,
i want to keep the secrecies of babies
akin to the alignment of women.

p.s. and i have to agree with Bukowski in his
wisened post-mortem publication about
"going all the way"... there's no battle worth fighting
except with oneself... going all the way...
writing into the night... watching a lightning
storm: hearing no thunder...
thunder eluded me yesterday: there was only
lightning and then the glorious fall of rain...
in his own words:
and you will: you will be alone with the gods
and the nights will flame fire...

i am alone: i am not alone... i'm writing this post-scriptum
during the day because i felt that the night
was too beautiful to waste it upon completing
this "little effort"...

i just can't wait for tomorrow...
i'll take a picture of the two of us on the grass...
hopefully i'll get her mother's approval to jump
into the hot-tub with her... my little BAMBINO...

hmm... why is it that babies are as generic as old people?
when we're born we have universal needs...
when we're at the closure of our mortality:
it's all the same for either man and woman...
babies look alike: whether male or female,
the same is true for old people...
it's only in our prime that we seek out diverged
***-based needs...
men want particular things
as women want particular things...
men crave solace in aloneness...
women despise any talk of solance
equating aloneness with loneliness...

   what happened to the inquisitive old men
of antiquity akin to Socrates?
why have men not bothered to inquire about the intellect
when all their youthful toils of the body
have been completed? it's so stereotypical
of middle-aged men to assume that philosophy
books ought to be read in old age...
nope... that's completely untrue...
philosophy books ought to be read in a man's
20s... and by the time a man is ripened for old age...
he ought to be able to mix his early reading of philosophy
books (a priori) with his experience of life
(a posteriori)...

but it's not enough to simply say: logic... philosophy...
reason...
the Chinese Taoist sages covered pretty much everything
that modern science: finally caught up with...
what's ontology in Chinese philosophy? XING...
what's inherently me...
no... whatever the current trend is in western thinking:
implosive "western" & "thinking" i will perform the rite
of Pontius Pilate over... i will wash my hands clean
of the whole affair... this pseudo-intellectualism
this... GAME... of "GRAMMAR"...
there are far more interesting categories of words
than simply pronouns... nouns: for a start are more
interesting... how there's very little chance to catch
a diminutive noun in English... hey! that's a start!

you can't say beak (of a bird) in a way that beak:
allocated a diminutive suffix to the noun...
you have to say: little beak...
ah... but in other languages you can do just that!

dziób - beak... the diminutive being?
   dziobek... little beak...
                                             like i explained to this
older Turkish woman i was working a shift with
(god i fancied her, only later did i find out that she was
Turkish... that doe with fear in her eyes...
i still fancy her...) when she asked me about my accent...
i told her: to have an Essex accent you have to be born
in Essex... she lives in Kent and the Essex lads are
horrid to her... but i told her: since i'm bilingual...
there's this natural buffer zone for me to not have
a localised accent... i can have an generic: cosmopolitan
London accent... but even then... i'm a chameleon...

ha! to think that i didn't ask for permission to **** other
girls: Khedra actually demanded it!
she told me: you have to try all of them...
her ******* habbit and harking at non-existent phlegm
from her throat and nose...
well: good that i don't like *******...
enough of caffeine and nicotine is just about the same
for me...
the moment she mentioned having a *******
i was like... this second time ought to be better...
the first time i wasn't prepared...
i'll juggle the finances and take out more next time...
first time? with all that ****** changes i was sort
of disorientated...

but i can't wait for tomorrow... why?
i'll be babysitting! i'll have a BAMBINO to look after...
this gorgeous woman is coming over to
do my mother's nails...
she wouldn't have come because her bambino
is so much hassle these days...
as my mother was talking i was erratically nodding:
please bring her! please bring her!
i won't be drinking too much tonight...
i need to wake up at 7am and make an important
phone-call come 8am... then i'll wait...

seriously... that's the best dichotomy of: the life
of the other in your hands...
from slapping and biting prostitutes to then ensuring
my large hands take to tender care of a baby...
ooh! i'm sizzling with giggles and burps and farts
and stomach gurgling sensations...
i'll put on some vinyl record for her...
i'll focus a bright light on my little Frankenstein...
i'll bring down the word from on high into
her ears and then through her mouth
i'll try to steal the first word from her mother's
attempt at communication...
she already performed a mimic of me when i started clucking
my tongue... she clucked back:
the cluck of a horse buckling on cobblestones...

i'll have my little Frankenstein experiment...
i'll work around words and settle for onomatopoeias
first... i'll imitate sounds that humans are allowed
to make... it will be like going to a brothel:
but better... better still: it won't be my child...
it will be someone else's child...

come to think of it... it almost feels like that scene
from Game of Thrones... when a baby is brought before
the Night King... it will be such a welcome break from
the already idiosyncratic, unique character of my cats...
i can't change them: not that i can change a cat's ontology...
or for that matter being able to change Quarus...
ibn ****** ibn Azreal...
                 but i can travel to the moon and Antartica with
this baby... i can revel in leaving my first footprint
in the psyche of this child: not mine...
grant me the bare minimum of at least 3 hours
with this loose canon of an **** that will probably ****
the entire length of the Thames' river...

nothing to do today, cleaned the house yesterday,
there's still plenty of left-over pizza...
i worked the entire weekend... even yesterday
i didn't drink that much... but my body went into shutdown
relax mode... i went to bed at 12am and got up at 12pm...
Show Me Love crushed me...
walking around so many women fried my brain...
the moment one approached me for a handshake
and a wave another approached me to dance with her
then another approached me to "face the mirror"
and make me smile while doing a mirror-wriggling dance...
not even in the brothel did i see so much:
ripe, flesh...
by the end i was exhausted like a Solomon might...
3 years later... one for each night... and he still didn't
manage to make the rounds of his harem...
so? well... back in the day they didn't have ******...
so? he asked for a few willing men to be castrated...
he cut their ***** off and said: here... be their playthings...
otherwise female homosexuality will not allow me
their arousal upon my return!

well... sometimes a little bit of bitterness does seep into me,
it comes in, but: it does take off its shoes,
it asks me whether it can smoke a cigarette,
it does all the very formal things i except certain states
of mind to allow me to "challenge"... it only comes
when a woman ponders my state: why aren't you still
married?
i swollow the "pill" and in turn ponder...
hmm... why? why?                       hmm... why?
isn't it obvious?
                             i could swear it was obvious!

the best conversations i ever had were with myself:
on paper... akin to this...
the cost of living is not worth putting too many hours
into working...
working is far better than stealing...
but i'm also not going to follow the route of rich people:
how do rich people get rich?
through loop holes that poor people can't navigate...
like my neighbour (who killed my cat)
she only own an off-license shop...
   but she... blah blah... she had three "bulgaries"
in the past 4 years... some that happened at noon...
some in the middle of the night: me? i'm usually perched on
my windowsill until 4am... i saw jack-****...
evidently: a scam...
                  
born into a Catholicism: yet i have retained all the Protestant
traits of honesty... even i once exclaimed
that England "used" to be a high-trust society...
it still might be: but in London you better have
double-standards... esp. with the Somalis taking breaks
on shifts... some you can oil-up toward your
persuasions about work by managing to
give them free food... otherwise... Sisyphus at his toil...

until tomorrow Malvina... until tomorrow my temp.
joy of a Bambino.
Acme Jan 2021
New York Times said it.
  God is dead. Heavens empty.
  Hell is cold ash.
  The devil's in the details.
  Heaven will be Timeshares.
  Hell will be for Geologists.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2020
now i just look at words:

          i sometimes want:
to describe what the tongue doesn't
need to prompt or cue -

mostly thanks for e. e. cummings...

it's so necessary to find this
metaphysical tongue
in my brain -
how it's a mundane thought:
nothing at all worth
morally questioning -

loitering in a status quo...
or -
        beginning a sentence
with a conjunction:
rather focusing on conjunctions
bilingually...

an hour prior i would really
focus on etymology and
nouns in bilingualism -

something prophetic had to
be excavated from argentina...
it's not like i don't like new
music... it's that there's so much
of it: listening alone
to it is unlike sharing it...

         notably IAH - III...

to: this
tamto: that
tam: there
           w - in
o - about
            even if english allows
i - ja
              or a - the indefinite article...
z - with...
          
what am i with my born
with tongue that...
unlike those who arrived
on these shores as *****...
in the loving embrace...
that they were born
in england...

              some made-up
propensity to teach
others from a native foundation:
because... the bilingual
is somehow less?

spew me canon fire of words...
mesmerize me!
no: clear vantage point for
exploitation...

a long winding crescendo...
a labour under the gravity of using
wings...
a completed dialectical question...
which never allows
a rhetorical answer...
as plato noted:
a mere yes or no...
for the inquirer is asking
a question to further his rhetorical
pursuit of inquiry...

classics... i should read up on
some Aeschylus...
i can't imagine south america
as an extension of spain...
i guess the conquistadors
really did **** with
the aztec and the mayan women...
i find south america as
unique...
devoid of spain's influence...
language alone is not enough...
spanish was never going
to be an undermined language...
it was never to be subverted
by either german or russian...

but this english litany:
how the new continent is still
having to mind inheritance...
how the inheritance "tax" is so...
suffocating and strait-jacket esque...
i can clearly see
argentina for argentina...
is hardly a whole lot to do with
spain being dragged into europe...
into the funnel...

    celt and prior
romans and prior...
  oh no... this is not a history lesson...
then the germans
then the slavs
then the huns the mongols the turks
the... turkmen etc.
this little crevice of land...
this sort of in between
of continental pride:
a place to build a ship and...
******* to new a greater pasture...
to adventure...
to a small island in the pacific...

i never have to think of brazil
as an extension
of portugal...
   even though their language is
so: base... same...
or mingle with argentina a spain...
but in the anglophonic realm...
tightly-knit community
of: 'just across the pond'...
pond: d'uh... the atlantic...

       you can't call it an english
or a spanish diaspora -
                  hardly...
                 i try to think back
and relate to my fellow language
proficiency exemplars...
what chains bind me:
that i am prior to self-first selfish...
my own owning my ownership...
before i am cannibalised
by a national identity...

            it must seem rather strange
to explore these avenues in this tongue...
cry! schizoid! tremors!
blah blah...
                 that i do find immovable
"pawns" in england...
people who will not... dare thread
crossing barriers with exception
to holidaying on some greek island
or... spain... of all places...
they are so intrinsically adamant
in not splitting their mind
with kneading the dough-for-a-tongue
of a second language...
well... i call them immovable "pawns"
rather than n.p.cs...
        
perhaps i would write in my native
zunge - perhaps i'd tease at some germanic:
alt vater albion to boot...
or scribble some cyrillic -
but then: who has that sort of keyboard
and this narrative is begging
for a fluency of time shortened...

         english has no diacritical marks
that i know... which allows speeding
up the process...
if i were to fiddle and playdough with
diacritical markers:
which venture in their idiosyncratic meaning:
stand-alone...
i would...
the english must have thought
they were the afghans of the ancient
world... that they would somehow
inherit latin without...

a german esses und zeds...
    or a french cedilla...
                        or an iberian ninyo...
                             ~ on top of an n...
they had to determine themselves as...
the failure of previous empires
was... their landlocked ergonomic of
spreading...
lend us the greek concept
of free-city-states!
let us use the seas!
the sun will never set!
insomnia barons and pauper maddened
toy kings...

it's  not like the intricacies
of two towing tonnes os tongue is
in anyway unbearble:

w tym - in this
  
but i find it's unnecessary to merely
focus on the disparagement of nouns...
i find red a bogus...
immediately constructed
into plural / masculine / the feminine...
it's never red alone...

czerń is black...
it's almost a verb when being presented
with red...
na czerwono: on red...
czerwony - red (masculine)
czerwona - red (feminine)...
czerwone  - red (feminine plural)
czerwoni - red (masculine plural)...

chechen renegades of post thunk -
the armenians reading into
an ottoman less lightly...

   look here: my prosthetic limb

red is an impasse in my native tongue...
it's like this anglophone
focus on "gender neutral" pronouns...
i can't seem to find...
a red is red...

or what's: back into english...
i read (once upon a time)
coupled with: i read (currently doing)...
there's... red and there's a reed...

what czerń allows is:
czarna, czarny... czarni, czarne...

czerwienić się: to blush...
but the colour red doesn't stand alone
to stress itself without
a "dismabigutation"
when loan grammatical tools
come to the fore...
and implore the "loss od detail"...

for this only one man
has to know two tongues...
and for that i am metaphorically schizoid...
sK-oid... voiding further
the sofa-esque mentality of people:
how i admire those people
with a knowledge of only one tongue...
or two or polyglot with
not dare reminder of
intricacies:
how they arrived at language
proficiency where everything is
either leftover or works just fine:
it's all reflexive and nothing... is ever auld
or odd...

ah... but...
czerwień is an adjective - an allusion to red...
from the burdens of a synonym cloud -
what was once: a bold
introspection... has become an alluded to...
a loan... a gimmick
a burgundy is a hue of red...
a deviation... how it teases
purple...
                 it's a quality... "esque"...
this native tongue of mine...
well... it can't escape gendering certain
words...

white is gender inclusive...
          all the colours are!
                  one has to find onself
a gangrene riddled dog barking up
the wrong tree...
when the anglophone debate over
gender neutral pronouns comes
to the fore:
this here the tornado:
i here, the butterfly...

           biały... biała...
"concern" for things...
well... you wouldn't say: biały rzecz (white thing)
you'd say biała rzecz

i imagine the birth of the concept of:
NOTHING to imply...
i have exhausted a desire for
etymology, for nouns...
for calling things concretely like
some geologists or chemist...
i'm here, socrates... borrowed for
glue and chewing gum and
the leftovers of conversation...

i.e. "thing" is the precursor generic
noun... nothing = nonoun...
something new... pronoun aside...
nothing for me implores:
gesticulating at nonoun -
Kant almost saw this coming
with his noumenon...

to talk without having to implore oneself
the details of seeing a feline marker...
because: that's what we already
do! a cat is a cat is not necessarily
a maine ****... or a siamese!
a dog is a dog isn't necessaarily
a cocker spaniel of a german shepherd!

a tree is a tree isn't necessarily an oak
or an acorn!
this cognitive construct could
only have been invented by the faculty
of memory: how best to filter,
throw a cipher into a bowl of
borrowing deciphers...
memory this formerly grand
cameo cinema that had to become
a fickle ontology... destined for a per se...

yet how i strain myself to
keep it on a leash...
after the acid bath of pedagogy and...
drilling into me the arithmetic of 2 + 2 = 4...
how i "wake"...
that i spell these words with
such adamancy...
is because i want to: i desire for them
to be strictly bound...
i could sooner slash my wrists than
allow myself to turn all sloppy...
lazily prone to heave: third party
slobbering leftovers of ****-towing-curd...

i will not lend my eyes to spell out
either greek or "proto" greek via cyrillic:
it's enough to know the CZ and CH
and this loitering demiurge
phoneticism: riddle a people with
enough mammon worship:
and sooner or later the pennies just
drag: extensive as to how
copper write was invented:
two feeble scots arguing over a penny...

for the nuance of a solitary reader...
had i the fortitude of a single tongue:
a well arrived at presentation
of a universal man...
i didn't have this blockages of
bilingualism:
it's not that i "somehow" find myself
obstructed:
there's this intilled:
reflexive: pronoun compound:
as there's this reflective: my self...

the ancient 'uns speak of a selb
to masquerade an imitation throw...
i dangle my arm and
pretend there's a stone in it..
i have to gladly arrive
at this sorrow for an ongoing praise
of pursuit per se:
i can't imagine chasing ****
was ever much fun to begin with...

but when it mattered and it must have
mattered...
i weaved a loneliness to the prusuit
of staging aloofness:
which married itself to... some german...
and lately had to revised:

jetzt: now...
           hier: here...
this teutonic beer hall:
tam-da-ra-day...
       sing-along...
                          
               limbo wording when finding
awkward "squares":
the geocentric model and the loath
of patriarchy...
the heliocentric model and
the ****** crisp queen
of gynocentrism...

  today i tried to figure out
how a siamese twin could ever
overcome a sstatus symbol
of herr cain... serial killer....
i couldn't: but the image struck me as...
somewhat... belitteling and...
"sincere"...
           how impossible it was...
to ever find... a siamese killer...
beside the serial stressor...

chances are:
if i were not "culturally appropriating"
this english...
if i had questionable insight
into an antithesis of all is well:
western cosmopolitan...
french of service! please amore!

if this wasn't a shadow
of ol' *****: risky...
                risque?
  esque...
               russian: pax varshava...
              such that the sun never itches
to sleep....
aeschylus is to be mourned...
wait 2000+ years from now...
this will translate
into a paragraph of... less conjunctions
and more... punctuation markers...
i hope the diacritical marks still
retain their stature...

i speak two languages
yet it's a burden for 6 o 7...
i only speak two languages...
yet it's a "burden" that would gladly make
an affair of a dozen "creases"...
have... astounding pressure
being met with:
economical proficiency being...
exacted: as therefore stressed...

for the worth of a night arrived at...
i have to spare you...
endearing prospect of a reader..
my limit...
petting cats i fathomed inately...
for the better half of my exposed
self: churned into ***...
i was an amateaur at...

here's to me ******* a headless chicken:
trans-spaecian misinformed "..."
additionally curses never
to revise a 1950s h'american
nostalgia pillow credo...

  sleep tight sleep tired...
my most bothersome lacklustre additive
of spike and crescendo lobough'
tammy... and a led zeppelin's play
on hay-maker... with a jive of:
jai... tell me the difference...
between jai and jay...
i'm dying to know!
i'm so pristine raw and ignoble
to have to... concern myself
with these overshoots of...
why i didn't happenstance
a life... and the end result was always
to be... a riddle of walking...
employing
a pretend walking stick...
a ball and a hole...

i was blindly 'ere... scouting
for rabbits and deer
and grouse... i was 'ere limping for
a wolf to wrestle with:
i was 'ere for the gnashing of teeth!
i was never 'ere for a leisure...
a praying for comfort,
for happiness...
   i need this uncertainity pulpit:
zenith.. this long reserved crease...
like it might be: tied into a butterfly
or a "bow".
(1965) Transcript

Recorded December 12, 1965 (released 1971, produced by John Judnich and Frank Zappa)

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hahahaha, you like this? Be weird I have no pants on…

The ecumenical council has given the Pope permission to become a nun…just on Friday’s.

I can’t work with this thing..it’s a…isn’t that funny? Backstage I really loved it and I fooled around with it, but I can’t it’s too…uh…I’ll work around it.

Does it look religious? It looks sorta religious…

Yeah, heh heh…that’s it. That’s faith and goodness. And veneer.

There’s more Churches, and people that work for the Church then I think there are eh, courthouses. And Judges. So actually what it is, Catholicism is like Howard Johnson, and what they have are these franchises, and they give all these people different franchises in the different countries and they have one government and when you buy the Howard Johnson franchise, you can apply it to the geography, whatever’s cool for that area. And then you pay the bread to the Main Office, and you have to keep a certain standard. Which is cool. But it is definitely a government by itself, and I think that’s what we’re doing in Vietnam. Because the Communists are a threat to those jobs. That’s where it’s at, and I think that’s what it’s always been, that those two factions are always *******’ and fighting with each other, and so actually we have the Catholic government inside our government, and they have this ***** with the Communists because they’re always fighting over the work, you know, and when they take over they do them out of a gig, so what happens is that… because Catholicism is here, and the people who work for it are here.

And that’s another big problem, the people can’t separate the authority and the people who have the authority vested in them. I think you see that a lot in the demonstrations, because actually the people are demonstrating not against Vietnam, they’re demonstrating against the Police Department. Actually against police men, because they have that concept of the law that the law and the law enforcement are one, and it started:

“So we’ll have to have some rules, that’s how the law starts, out of the facts, let’s see. I’ll tell you what we’ll do, we’ll have a vote: we’ll sleep in Area A, is that cool? OK good. We’ll eat in Area B, good? Good. We’ll throw our crap in Area C.” So everything went along pretty cool, everyone is very happy. One night everybody is sleeping, a guy woke up pow got a face full of crap, and said, “Hey what’s the deal here, I thought we had a rule? Eat. Sleep. And crap. And uh, I was sleeping and I got a face full of crap.” So they said, well, ah, the rule is substantive. That’s, see, that’s what the 14th Amendment is, it regulates the rights, but it doesn’t do anything about it, it just says that’s where it’s at. We’ll have to do something to enforce the provisions, to give it some teeth. Here’s the deal, if anybody throws any crap on us, while we’re sleeping, they get thrown in the craphouse. Agreed? Guy goes, “Well, everybody?” Yeah. “But what about if it’s my mother?” You don’t understand, your mother will be the fact, it has nothing to do with it, it’s just a rule. eat, sleep, and crap, anybody throws any crap on us they get thrown right in the crap house. Your mother doesn’t enter into it, everybody’s mother gets thrown in the craphouse. Priest, Rabbi’s, they all go. Agreed? OK, agreed. OK, now going along very cool, guy sleeping, pow he got a face full of crap. Now he wakes up he sees he’s all alone this guy, and he looks and everyone is having a big party. He says “Hey! What’s the deal I thought we had a rule? Eat, sleep and crap, and you just threw a face full of crap on me.” He says “Oh it’s a religious holiday! And, uh, we told you many times that you were going to live your indecent life and sleep all day you deserve to be thrown crap on you while you’re sleeping, and the guy said “*******”. A rule’s a rule and this guy started to separate the Church and the State right down the middle pow. Here’s the Church rule and here’s the federalist rule. OK, everything going along very cool, and guy said, “Wait a minute, although we made the rule and…how we gonna get somebody to throw somebody in the craphouse? We need somebody to enforce it. Law Enforcement.” OK, now they put the sign up on the wall WANTED LAW ENFORCEMENT, and guys apply for the job. “Look, here’s our problem, see we’re trying to get some sleep and people keep throwing crap on us. Now we want someone to throw them right in the craphouse, and I’m delegated to doing the hiring here, and, so, here’s what the job is…They won’t go in the craphouse by themselves, and we all agreed on the rule now, and we firmed it up, so there’s nobody get’s out of it, everybody’s vulnerable they get thrown right in the craphouse, but you see, I can’t do it cause I do business with these ******* and it looks bad for me, you know…So I want somebody to do it for me, ya know, so I tell you what, here’s a stick and a gun and you do it. But wait til I’m out of the room, and whenever it happens see I’ll wait back here and watch you know, and you make sure you kick em in the *** and throw them in there. Now, you’ll hear me say a lot of times that it takes a certain kind of mentality to do that work you know and all that *******, but you understand that’s all horseshit, just kick em in the *** and make sure that it’s done. So it happens that…

Now comes the riot, or the marches, and everybody’s wailing and blopblopblopblop. And you got a cop there who’s standing with a shortsleeve shirt on and a stick in his hand, and the people are yelling Gestapo! at him! Gestapo? You *******, I’m the mailman! Gestapo!?

Now. What it is, I think that the people really want to beat the devil. Where that started was with the early, early missionaries. I think that they didn’t really…that’s why the people never could really separate the authority and the people with the authority vested in them. Because, you know with the savages they would teach them the religion, and after the speech the savage would go, “Well, are you God?” “Well, no…but heh heh, what the hell, you know…well, just never mind that, and eh, I can do you a favor, you do me a favor that’s all and, I think that’s the hang up in our country right now, is that, cause you always hear that kind of story about the peace officer who pulled the speeder over and the speeder turned out to be the governor, and he had the audacity to give him a ticket. So the fact that the people repeat that story, so much, that means the people don’t believe that the governor could ever get a ticket, man. So then it’s just the degree of the law that the governor could break. That means he can kick you in the ***, but it’s *******, it’s really not that way, cause everybody’s vulnerable, yeah everybody’s *** is up for grabs. It’s really a groovy, eh… groovy system, and I think that, well the problem I had a long time of understanding the law is because of the language in the law and the fact that instead of taking each word and finding out the case that the word related to, once when I get lazy, and I would apply common sense. And then I got really ******* up.

That’s really weird, I went to the Supreme Court three times trying to get a writ of mandamus, and they kept sending it back, the clerk, they kept saying what the language said append the copy of order in respect of which the writ is sought. And I keep sending this copy of the lower court, they keep sending me back in respect of which the writ is sought. Then I dug, in respect of which, They use the word “of” like I use the word “to”. And ‘respect of’ means this kind of respect. In respect “of it”. So what they wanted, the Supreme Court, we want our judgement that these cats should respect us.

Now the Supreme Court, right now there’s some ******* now with obscenity. There’s an obscenity circus that’s been going on for five years. And I think, I really can’t believe that it’s not settled yet. An illiterate view of the law is that, what’s obscene is ***** ******* and fancy *******. If a guy can tear off a piece of *** with class, then he’s cool. But if the author depicts factory workers, who are not expertise with stag shows, then it’s obscene. Which is just nonsense. A lot of the confusion maybe with the obscenity laws is this: it’s that, the judges who are confused just didn’t read.
Here’s how it works: if a guy gets busted, see, and he raises a federal question and the appellate court answers it, that answer is mine, and yours. That’s equal protection from the law that decision, that one court. So in 1933 when a judge got Ulysses trying to come in the country, you dig, and the customs and tariff people said uh-uh, you can’t bring that book in, you can’t come in the country, it’s obscene. So these people said, no we want the book to come in and we want to knock of the injunction to restrain and they move forward. The judge said OK I’m gonna read the book, but I’m not gonna apply this Hickman rule anymore. The Hickman rule says that, uh, we should judge this book by the part, the portion of it, to the guy who gets *******, quickest. The most corruptible mind in the community. I think, said this judge, we should apply to the average man, the reasonable man, the man with the normal, average *** instincts. To that cat. Then they add the balance, contemporary, to his average age, so to the guy, the average *** instincts, to his average age, his society, that’s all attested. So that means that that rule, when any judge has to judge any work, he always has to apply that rule first, and that was cool. Now goes, they said, well we better narrow it, because what’s happened here is that there is a lot of works of art, that may get people *****, and there’s a Los Angeles ordinance now in 1961 this guy got busted behind, and the judge said “I don’t need any art critics, I know what’s obscene.” But the judge didn’t know in that local court that that wasn’t the question this guy was asking. He said this ordinance is unconstitutional because it doesn’t have knowingly in it, and that’s the principle of the whole American law system, your intent. So how could I know it schmuck when these people told me in the book jacket that this is art. So it, doesn’t, the intent has to be there. So the lower court said *******, and the Supreme Court said ******* to the lower court. And that’s when I started getting into trouble. Because from ’61 on came the argument between petulant lower court judges and the Supreme Court and spoiled rotten D.A.’s. When they lost the case…the city attorney in Los Angeles, every time he’d lose in Washington, I’d get my *** kicked when he got home. Just *******’, *******’, *******’, and still freed the Supreme Court, they keep movin’ ahead, movie’ ahead, their gonna do it their way. Now comes the California legislature, 1961. And the legislature here are geniuses and they came up with some kappa words. They said, what’s the sense of making the artistic merit of a work the defense to a prosecution? Because after the guy’s busted his *** is in jail. Then he has to defend himself. Let’s take it out of the defense to a prosecution move it to an element of the offense. Now it’s a crime to be utterly without artistic merit. That means the guy who makes the complaint the burden is on his ***, to prove it. He’s got to schlep up 50,000 art critics. And after they, if they would accomplish that…You know a lot of people say, well jeez, can’t you find anything that’s obscene, is there nothing obscene? Why we have this desperate need for it now is so many lawyers lost their *** on it, that it seems only right that we should have it. I mean, can you tell me nobody can commit treason? I mean Christ, then to you nothing’s treasonous. No it’s very tough, it’s very tough to stop the information, that’s where it’s all it’s at. Because the word the guy says is of no consequence. What the Constitution forbids is any bar to the communication system. They want nobody to abridge the right to say it one time, and one time to hear it. Nothing in the middle, nobody to tell you before hand that this isn’t too cool, because the information makes the country strong. A knowledge of syphilis is not an instruction to get it. And only if the country can know about…that’s why the Church and the State have to be separated all the time because the Church only wants a certain kind of information from their government, but since we have a lot churches and a lot of different people in this country, we gotta know about all the bad, bad ****, the worst of everything. The knowledge of it to be protected against it. Because if you don’t have a knowledge of it, and you just know about the good, and they just let the good come through, seeping through what they think is good, you end up like ******, cause he really got ******* around by that. He kept saying, “Am I doing it right?” “You’re doing great, they love you.” “Don’t *******, they don’t like me” “They love you, don’t listen to those liars. **** him, who said that?” You really gotta separate the judicial, executive, and the legislative…and the most dangerous department, just the department itself, is the police, the District Attorney. Not the man, but the department is very dangerous for him. Cause it will gobble him up, and the whole reason for the Constitution was that there was like one King, he was the executioner of everything. So they said how we’ll do it now we’ll really make it safe, we vote on the rule, eat, sleep and crap, that’ll be the law constant, then if anybody busts us for eat, sleep, and crap, breaking the rule, they have to go first to the judge, the judge has to look up the book, and then he’ll make a round robin. Otherwise, no one guy. What happens, two hundred dollar police undercover girl investigation. Two hundred dollar call girls. Now there was no warrant for search. Now the Fourth Amendment and all those things because of a bad kiss *** newspaper have been turning into protection for thieves, but it’s not. It’s to protect the executive branch from becoming thieves. Because what happens, without judicial superintendents, in other words, if, if the executive branch can make any inquiry at all without a judge signing it, then he can go the ***** house every night, and he can spend two hundred bucks a night getting laid every night and when he gets caught, “What are you doing?” “I’m investigating.”

But if he’s got a ***** house warrant for search, then there’s no *******. Then when the crap rule comes in, you, you, you, you, and you, no I’m investigating, there it is, cool. Describes particularly what I was searching for, what the complaint was. Because what happens is that you’ve… the money spent on a two month undercover investigation of hookers…maybe $15,000 dollars,, no when you go to court, the ***** is on the stand she’s not gonna say she got $15,000, she’s gonna say “I didn’t get a nickel!” Cops gonna say, “Well, what do you expect from ******.” Maybe he didn’t get the fifteen grand. And that’s where, that’s always the desperate need to control vice. That’s what all the bull, that’s what all the ******* is. If you check the records, there’s not one citizen that bought a ***** book. Every case has been initiated by the police department. So it’s not literature they, just, it’s a big smokescreen. There’s money spent on those books. A fortune ****** away. How many copies of Henry Miller? And they don’t even read em, so it’s all *******. Uh, five dollars, OK, three dollars, certificate…then when it really gets dangerous is, see, what happens, it’s poor people who, like, get hung up with good and evil, except it’s like, right and wrong. It’s like Prohibition. Chicago is still crippled from that, from the disease of Prohibition. What happened is that the moralists who thought they were moral didn’t realize what was happening, they kept saying “yes keep the Prohibition on” meanwhile the cops are making bread on gamblers, and nafka’s and swinging. When it’s the law out in front, then nobody has any excuse. No priests can be in a *******, blessing, kissing them, saving them. No cop can be, no *******, everybody’s up for grabs, that’s it. Stay out of there, that means everybody, no protecting, no local home rule ******. My position is that, since the Constitution says that, there has to be judicial superintendents, that there, no peace officer has any place talking to anyone or making any inquiry whatsoever, search warrant is prerequisite to the inquiry. Because if he’s allowed to make any investigation, for a noise even, then he’s allowed to make determinations of who looks suspicious, and the only people who look suspicious to Jews are Irish drunks, so it’s all ******* conclusions. Who could look suspicious? So we got suspicious looking people, we got N i g g e r Town, ***** Town, ****** Town, **** Town. Yeah, it’s … you can’t hear the noise, unless he sees the crime, solid. Otherwise he can take the police car, and stick in two ex-convicts, friends of his, and say “Look, here’s the area that I’m sworn to protect. We’re gonna break in this warehouse and I’ll lay outside dead. We’ll haul the **** away in my car, if anyone comes on us, we’re investigating, and if we get caught in the interim, we just caught you. Alright, solid? Solid. Well the Sally Stanford thing for Christ sake, they had a different gimmick there, the guy was off-duty, he had an off-duty detective agency, so that gave him an excuse to carry a piece. Yeah, that’s really…that’s a lot of bread, a lot of money. What’s happening, the crime rate see has disappeared almost, and the task force that we hired, are getting bigger and bigger and bigger. There’s never any layoff in the Police Department. Well, here’s what I think happened to the crime rate. First thing, the basic need to steal is like for coal, you know, you’re hungry, alright, so now the economy is up, so that went disappear-o. OK, now there’s a second need to break the law was for some sign of, you’d have some status, there’d be some virility. OK, the fact that now we have health and safety, give these people analysis, that ******* that in the ***, cause no one wants to be sick. So as soon as it could be helped, that ******* up that whole scene. Now there’s just nothing left.

Narcotics, now they finished with ******. I think in 1951 there was like about seven thousand dope fiends in this state and 50 narcotics officers. Today there probably about 15,000 narcotics officers and four dope fiends. 1500 nihiling, testing stations, lupometers…and they got four ***** junkies left. Old time, 1945 hippies. One guy works for the county, undercover, the other guy works for the Federal heat. OK, so finally they went on strike. “Look we don’ use dope anymore, we’re tired.” “C’mon out, we’re just after the guys who sell it.” “Schmuck! Don’t you remember me, you arrested me last week. I’m the undercover guy for the Federals.” “Uh, I thought he was the county guy.” it’s like ***** running around the tree. He works for the Federal, he works for the County. “Look we’re after the guys who sold it to you, OK” “Nobody sold it to me, I bought it from him, I told ya.” “Um, well we…just point out one of the guys.” “Don’t ya know him? There’s four of us, I told ya that.” “Just tell us the names of the guys, cooperate now. Tell us everybody.” “OK, he was a Puerto Rican. He drove a Green Buick.” “OK, we’ll wait for him, OK.” Three days of that schmucky investigation…”Is that him?” “Well I think it’s so an so…I think he was Hawaiian anyway..” “OK, don’t forget, if you hear from him.” “OK, I’ll call you the first thing.” OK, now they finished up with that nonsense, and they says, “Let’s see now, we’ve got all these hospitals, you mean to tell me you guys are going to ***** up that rehabilitation program? You mean to tell me that you’re, if you’re not using any dope, you certainly know some people that need help.” We don’t know anybody, we don’t know anybody, please…I can’t use anymore dope, I don’t like it.” Well, you really are selfish, that’s really, you really don’t care about anybody but yourself. You know we have a center to rehabilitate people with 1500 empty beds?” “I know I’m ****** that way. I’ll try, but…OK.” OK, so now they’ve got dangerous drugs. Now the insanity in that area, is that the reason that ****** is verboten it’s no good for the people. Its…it destroys the ego.
And the only reason we only get anything done in this country, is that, you wanna be proud of it, and build up to the neighbors, and if the ****** schleps all that away, and the guy goes, the top comment he’ll come up with, the guy who builds the building, is “Hey that’s cool..” and that’s it. So it’s no good. It’s no good for everybody, and that’s why it’s out. But that’s…the Source is no good. That’s where it goes right to the source. But dangerous drugs, the connection is Park-Lilly. It’s Olin Mathieson. The source is not bad for the people, so the only difference between the felon is the guy who can’t afford a prescription. So they legislate against poor people, which is really schmucky. Marijuana…I don’t smoke ****, I’m really glad that I don’t smoke it, I’m really gonna…in five years it’ll be legal. But then no one will smoke it anymore, you’ll see. Most of the law students I know smoke marijuana, that’s why it’ll be legal. Yeah.

You know what I’d like to investigate? Zig-Zag Rolling Papers…Yeah, bring the company up on that. Now we have this report Mr. Zig Zag, certainly it must’ve been unusual to you that Zig Zag papers have been in business for 16 years and Bugle tobacco has been out of business for five years. This committee comes to the conclusion that the people are using your Zig Zag cigarette papers to roll marijuana tobacco in it . Aww, ****, that’s right. Lot’s of it. Rolling it and smoking it. You know, I really felt sorry for that cat, what was his name, Wallen….Grand Kleagle cause it’s a repeat of the Communist witch hunt. The fact that the Ku Klux ****, one guy lynched people, that means that anyone who ever belonged to it and knows about it lynched people, which is *******. So what they do, and it’s really… when your *** is on the pan like that I’m sure it’s really frightening, especially when they take you…did, they didn’t…where did they hold that investigation? Oh, that’s really outrageous then, cause they can’t do that, it has to be in the district, he has to be tried by his peers, no matter what, in his district. Because when you take him out of his district, there’s one trauma, cause you take him in a whole different geography, and Southerners are, they’re people of the Earth, they don’t…they’re…it’s a different country. Religious people, and the talk is different then North, and they’re rappin’ questions at him, and he like hears one out of every ten words. And he just, is really frightened, just… Dig those schmucks, they’re ******* – “You’re really not real Ku Klux ****, you’re not spending the money on rope. You’re having good times with it.” Is that ridiculous? This poor cat didn’t want to admit that he was an American citizen. He kept saying I refuse, I refuse, I decline, and that ******* Time magazine, really make always make it seem shabby, the Fifth Amendment. he declined so many times, he mumbled it, and declined, declined. naturally the cat didn’t want to admit anything cause the last time he admitted anything at the Constitutional Convention the carpet baggers ******* his grandaddy ***, that was it, bye-bye, so he’s very weary and wary of the North, because he knows it’s a whole different scene.

And it’s amazing that the Southerner, has no hostility for the *****, the same way as the court has no hostility for me, they have the hostility for the people that defend me. That’s why they yell all that ****/play drop the n i g g e r, to bug them. So it’s the banner fighting between those two people. Oh. Lotta dues. Lyndon Johnson, they didn’t let him talk for the first six months. It took him six months to learn how to say knee-grow. Nig-ger-oh. OK, let’s hear it one more time Lyndon, now… OK, let him pose again, ok..neig-ar-oh…no…can’t you say, look, say it quick, knee-gro! like that. N i g g e r-oh-oh n i g g e r-oh…I can’t help it! i can’t say it that’s all! I can’t say n i g g e r-oh, ******’ in bed and everything, stuttering, I can’t, what the hell, big n i g g r o-oh nahg-raw…let me show em a scar…no no no. Just say it, and say it, that’s it…yeah, he’s completely confused. Well, really, that family is so…that’s really…there’s a certain kind of non-Jewish look, that, they could pass any test. They are the biggest non-Jews in the world. No question they walk right through the line. The wife with the white flannel satchel, a zipper up the front, with red nail polish…she’s beautiful. She looks at home in a trailer park. Yeah. Dig.

There’s…here, it’s so strange. Not the people necessarily involved with the religion but the religion itself, Catholicism. A genius religion. Three years ago I was wondering, I used to do a bit, four years ago, Religions Incorporated, so my view at that time was here’s a rich church, Catholicism, next door is poverty, so it’s hypocrisy. Obvious view, So I started digging, digging, reading really getting into it, and I realized, the reason for the baroque Church, the grand Church in the poverty neighborhood, is that, what the Church is is a school, it’s a method of instruction. And people who have no understanding, who need instruction, don’t know about Philosophy, they can only understand material things. So a raggedy *** guy won’t go into a raggedy *** temple. “I live in a *******, why’d I gotta go in one for?” But if you show him something nice he can understand then you can instruct him. So the ecumenical council really are geniuses and they make some tremendous moves. So I figure there’s a group looks to undermind them. Somebody talked Lyndon Johnson’s daughter into converting. That sent the religion back two-thousand years. That dress she had on, she looked like a Guatamalen slave. Real Philomena at the wedding there, with it’s, terrible, looked like a National Geographic picture. He’s-uh…yeah he’s it’s…showin’ his scar is beautiful, that’s just-uh, that’s just where it’s at, he’s a **** kicker. He’s just a….Yeah, it’s a…it was a mistake. Yeah, cause the presidency is a very sophist….Kennedy was just, yeah just a genius at organization, a sophisticated man, and sophistication just means knowledge, learning a lot of background there. And the other guy is, uh….I’d like to get some tapes of those people, what goes on…yeah, that would really be a treat to hear them. I was just thinking of the guy, you know the picture of Oswald when he got shot. That’s Lyndon Johnson’s relationed face to the other guy, with the big, you know that guy with the hat on? Like a big Texan, “Oh ****”. To be that obvious, to be able to react, “OHHH EAAHHHUH”. Check out that practice, so you don’t get yelled at. “UHHHH UH EAAAHHHUH” You know, why Ruby did it, uh, this is subjective, but….cause he was Jewish, and uh….You know I really wanna…I’d really like to tell you that, I wanna tell Christians that…that….Why I can tell it to you because it’s all over now, ya know. I wouldn’t cop out when it was going on, but it’s, it is all over now. Up to about six-seven years ago there was such a difference between Christians and Jews that, but maybe you did know. But…you…shewww…forget about it, just a line there that was just…And the brotherhood of Christians and Jews was like some fifth column *******, I dunno, it was like a phony dummy board. Yeah, because…No, I don’t think so, I don’t think the Christians did know it, because only the group that’s involved…it’s like the defense council knows it because he has a narrow view, where the D.A., he’s hung up with a bigger practice, so it’s the same with the Jew is hung up with his **** and maybe the Christian…because, uh, when the Christians say, “Oh is he Jewish? I didn’t know, I can’t tell when someone’s Jewish” I say well that’s *******. But he….can’t, because he never got hung up with that ****, you now, who is he Jewish, and Jews are very hung up with that all the time. Why Ruby did it, see…when I was a kid I had a tremendous hostility for Christians my age, the reason I had the hostility is that I had no ***** for fighting, and they could duke. So I disliked them for it, but I admired them for it and there was a tremendous ambivalence all the time of admiring somebody who could do that, you know, and then disliking them for it, and the neighborhood that I came from, there were a lot of Jews so the problem, there wasn’t a big big problem, and my elders were not concerned with punching. But Ruby came from Texas, and a Jew in Texas is a tailor. What went on in his mind, I’m sure….”If I **** a guy that killed the President, the Christians will go ‘Shewww…boy what ***** he had! We always thought the Jews were chicken **** but look at that. A Jewish Billy the Kid rode out of the West!'” And the Christians will hug him and kiss him, and love him, and boy they’ll say ‘Oh boy he saved everybody’. But he didn’t know that it was just a fantasy….from his grandmother, telling him about the Christians, who punch everybody. Even the shot was Jewish, the way he held the gun, it was a ***** Jewish way. Ha ha! Real d’Artagnan. He probably went ‘nah’ too, that means “there” in Jewish, “nah. Nah” Yeah, it’s…and Belli didn’t um…he forgot the geography. No, it’s the same kind of law, it really is in the words, you just have to speak them slower in that area and you have to dress…there’s just a few kinda changes, but they don’t change the substance of the law, it’s like, as good a case as I can have with you, if I pick my nose, although it’s not dishonest, it’s just gonna lose it, ya know. So Belli didn’t wear the right suit, because anybody who’s suit fits em good in the South looks like a **** ****. And he should have known that but the fact that he was offended with the judge chewing tobacco, see, cause that’s the natural thing down there. There was like a ***** picture I saw going around and it said “This is your local Police Department” and it showed some kinda cops in a Southern place, and they were laughing and the guy, oh, smoking a cigar, that’s was it. But that’s just the behavior in the Southern court, and the fact that everyone was laughing they don’t know that Southerners are just…they’re child-like in that area, they’re not sophisticated with picture taking. They see a picture, you smile. That’s why they’re always smiling in the pictures , they’re not arrogant, but they’re just, you’re supposed to smile when you take a picture. And the Northerners are just hipper, they do the cool…So Belli trying to sell those jurors anything, the voir dire must have just broke their *****, you know. That qualifying must have really got ’em good and crazy, you know you have two days to…whadda ya….yeah any attorneys here forget that, the…If I was an attorney I would grab the…here is here’ll be my pitch to the jury. First place, no qualifying, I pick… no challenges at all. First jurors come up, there the jurors. “You jurors, you people think a lot of the community because you vote, and that’s why you’re jurors. Give’em all a hundred bucks a piece and get ’em laid, and that’s it.” I’d be a terrible Law Professor, “What’d he say at the end there?” “Give’em a hundred bucks and get ’em laid.” “Professor, can we talk to ya…the conclusion that you made there, give ’em a hundred bucks and get ’em laid” “Yeah, yeah get ’em laid, it all counts.” “But that don’t fit with the beginning of the conversation.” “Well it’s all *******, you gotta figure round.” “Ah, he’s bottled out, get him..” Yeah, Belli talking to those people, he sounded to that jury like the Southern attorney would sound to Greek-Irish-Italian Northern jurors. “Look here now Jurors, I like Italian people, that’s first off, I see we got some Italian people here by the…I’m gonna take you, a little story now, this buck n i g g e r and this Jew boy wahhhhhh! “What’d the hell everybody get so hot for?” “Just shut up, don’t say anymore.” “What’d I say, it’s a cute story, everybody gets a kick out of it.” “No they don’t, just shut up….I can’t explain it. You look South, you’re hairs wet, I don’t now what it is. Just dummy up, that’s all.” uh-huh….F a g g o t s….Dig, isn’t the argument against ******* that, what the pornog–selling the *******, making it available to the public, is that the man is happily married, or he’s just a happy cat, and you come along now with some matter that the main ****** of the matter, the predominate appeal is to his prurient interest, and what you’re doing is entrapping him, you’re inciting him, something that the guy wouldn’t be thinking about ordinarily, you’re getting him *****. You’re getting it up, and you’re not getting it off, and you’re creating a clear and present danger and it’s worthless…and so that’s the objection to it, and that’s a valid objection. But the consistency necessarily follows that the guy who–when I hear about f a g g o t s who get arrested in toilets, and I say, “How’d you get arrested in a toilet?” “Well, I accosted a peace officer.” Well, ha-ha, that’s certainly no concept of reality there. “Well I didn’t know he was a peace officer.” “Whaddaya mean?” “Well, he didn’t have a uniform on.” “Well he wasn’t wearing a costume was he? He wasn’t wearing a low-cut gown, because what a low cut gown to a f a g g o t must be is tight Levi’s and a padded basket, like uh…I mean, he wasn’t wearing Levi’s and leaning up against the ****** like sultry like that…cause if he was that’s *******. Because he was appealing to your prurient interest, and entrapping you. You can’t do that. It’s a funny thing all the different stages that we’ve all…my generation was, well…me, I’m amazed by any guy who can go into a public toilet and do anything but **** and leave. Guys who can wash their hands are amazing to me. I just go ehuhehuhwwwshhhupout. Don’t ‘I want to talk to you’ “Not in there, are you kidding?” Yeah, cause if someone says, “What are you doing in the toilet?” “I don’t know…” “The hell are you doing in there? Did you make?” “Yeah, I did it…” “Alright, now hang around here, okay..”

So I saw, dig what I saw, a beautiful change. I went to…Phil Spector had like a big rock & roll jamboree at Tammi’s, filming it, so I went there and I see this ten year old kids there all kids, like nine and ten years old, with no parents. So my first thought was like, what the hell, unattended, but I saw it’s like a whole different generation, everything was very cool. Nine and ten year old kids! It’s ten o’clock, eleven o’clock at night…My generation, children out at night, lurking in the bushes….I would never have the nerve to talk to any strange chick. She’s a really beautiful chick, I’d never have the nerve to hit on her. In a house, somebody introduce, solid. But guys who can like drive past in cars and go hello even, the reason I have never had the nerve is that my mother and my aunt, the way they reacted to guys, the way they told me, everyday they would come home and tell me stories about some guy that was behind the bushes exposing himself. There was a band of dedicated perverts who spent their whole life in trick positions…”Ok jim, whoo-hoo hello lady there, eh bup-bup the bushes there, ok aging seven you’ve got your position by the book, eh the newspaper, you flash, the hat, ok…you-hoo here we are here! Find the schmuck in the bush. Yeah. invidious discrimination. All waiting for them. So I know what everything is. I said “Nema, you’ve got the market cornered! We’ll film these guys, I mean they’re amazing how they…the elevator doors open up “Whoo-hoo here we are!” How do, when they separate my mother and my aunt, one’s running and so and heh, and pocketbooks, and they’re ready, boy. That pocketbook. I figured that after all these years they were really ******* stories, like little guys always telling about, “And I said you big ***** you.” Those little guys will always tell you about they knocked the **** outta this big guy, so it’s my mother and my aunt telling me this nonsense story about a pocketbook ‘and I give a hamayoupow.” Maybe that was a ***** lie, telling me they were good women everyday, right. Missed a guy, and I give em a good pocketbook, a ***** ******* pocketbook at everybody. With a good parrot scream byeahhh!! Eh-heh! I know my aunt never did it to anybody. Ever. I just know it, I know I know I know. She was bald. My aunt was bald, the bald headed lady. Little teeny teeny hair. And wrinkled. And a cameo. A little little lady, she was very neat. And go “krinphkrinphkrinph” like that all the time. Krinphkrinph. There aren’t those kind of people with tics anymore, someone who go, guys really like, drive across country with those guys you’ve really had it. Ticcers, heh-ha. They’re gone all those. I think midgets are gone. And they’re only certain kinds midgets who are real midgets. They’re are no Jewish midgets. A true ****** is, he’s got ***** blond hair, and neat as a pin. Little brown shoes and they’re this big. I wonder if….are Pygmies midgets? Colored midgets. Wonder would a colored cat get offended, listen any relation between Pygmies and midgets? Wouldn’t Governor Wallace ****? Demonstrating, a bunch of Pygmies. Ahhhhgh! Give em salt, give em salt, that’s all, that’s a, yeah…yeah, it’s really…Little teeny midgets, those kind I’m talking about, they’re really patties. And where do they get they’re bread from? Who supports them? They don’t pay any income tax at all. There’s a lot of people ******* our government. So don’t be too nice to them. Cause we’ll drag you up before the House of Un-American Activities Committee. Just by encouraging them, by omission. It’s your duty as a citizen to bust their ***, and demand, “Where are you getting your money from?” They hate to be picked up, they hate that. That’s why I hate them, they don’t want to be hugged. Heh-heh, I picked one up, see, and he got mad. “Put me down!” “Ok, but you’re so cute, I pick ya!” They comb their hair with soap. Bela Lugosi’s son is an attorney. Is that weird, he passed the Bar. He must hear those ***** jokes all the time. I loved that, when he got arrested, he was a dope fiend, Bela Lugosi, I almost ****. The Monster. He was the worst advertisement for rehabilitation, he was a dope fiend for seventy years, he cleaned up and dropped dead. The scene is…I was gonna relate him to Christ. Did you read that in the paper? Was it geologists, this is a vague recollection I have of it. That it was the custom at the time, Christ was crucified, for Jewish women to give the people who were about to be crucified a drug that would put them in a death like trance, and that this happened, that Christ’s mother gave him the drug, and that he was…that’s, wow. That’s amazing if that’s true. Ruby gets paid back. How the ***** and the Jew got into Show Business. The ***** had a boss that worked him twenty hours a day. So he wanted to get off a couple of hours, and the guy “Get back to work.” “I don’t feel good today.” “Don’t mind that ******* get back to work, back to work.” He kept coming up with different gimmicks, “my kid’s sick” “back to work.” Couldn’t–kept trying to come up–how can I “Hmmm hmmm ohhh Lord” “Hey! I didn’t know you guys could sing.” “Ohh oh Looord ohohhh Lord.” “Hey, put the *** down, come over here, lemme hear that again.” “Llooord oh my Lloorrdd” “Can he sing? He sings” “Ohhoh Lloorrdd.” “Hey get some wine, this is ok.” They partied, and the weeds went over everybody, right? And sang their *** right off the farm. Now the Jew had a hipper boss. You couldn’t ******* the Egyptian that quick. No. Jew kept working at it, working…”Never mind the horseshit, thank you, we’ve got the pyramids to build and that’s where it’s at. We’re gonna get it up, it takes your generation, next generation, you do a nice workman like job, here.” “Oh thank you.” “Get outta here with that horseshit, now stop it now. Becoming very fine, very fine.” What a gig, right, you know you got another forty years on the job, shewww…what, that’s a, shewww…you still can’t get a piece of straw through there. So the Jew kept working at being charming, working at it, even though he never carried it off, but he got so good at it that was his expertise. “Hey, let’s go watch the Jew be charming. Hey Jew, do that charming bit for us there. We know you’re bullshitting, but you do it so good we get a kick out of it.

So now the Jew has got theater. He’s the actor. He’s the charming actor. Now he has the show business industry knocked up. He has the film industry, he controls it, he’s writing the pictures, making the images that people are the good people and bad people.

Now you never see any Jewish bad guys in movies ever. Ever, ever. And you see a lot of pictures about Christ, a ton of religious pictures. In the most respectful position. And the reason that is, I’m sure, the way of the Jew saying “I’m sorry.” That’s where it’s at. And I wanted to do a film showing, because I’m sure that day in the cell, it’s just like, it’s in the tank, you know like four, five, six people in the cell there, and there was Gestas, Dismas, and okay they’re gonna get crucified, this guy was probably crapped out in the corner, Gestas and uh…”OK, you two.” “What?” “You’re gonna get crucified today.” “Oh, get my file down here, that’s *******.” “Ok, get ready all you guys, you’re all getting crucified in this cell.” “Look, I’m the good thief, what are you bullshitting me for, I’m in here for checks!” “C’mon you get ready, you’re getting crucified.” “Heh-heh, I’m not getting crucified, get my file down here. I’m the good thief, I’m here for petty theft, you understand? Checks. I’m not gonna get crucified now. I don’t know what the hell this guy is doing, but, uh, good luck to him.” OK, now he sees their getting them all ready and they’re moving him. “Hey! What the hell are you kidding with this ****? I’m not getting crucif–hey, mister, do me a favor, there’s a mistake here, they think that I’m with you for some reason here. Christ says, “Don’t worry you’ll be with me.” “C’mon with that, I’m not with you, now tell em, c’mon it’s no joke now, we’re going up the hill here.” He’s praying, and everybody’s praying and pushing him. “Hey c’mon wit—get the Public Defender. C’mon this is ******* now!” Now they’re up on the cross. “Hey mister, please before it’s too late, do me a favor, ok? Tell em?” He says,”Don’t worry, you’re with me…” “Stop saying that, will you? I’m not with you, ok? I mean I’m with you, I like you, but stop telling these ******* that I’m with you. They think I’m with you means that I’m with you, that I conspired with you, I don’t know. Look, don’t be pushy, I like you, ok? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I woke up I’m getting crucified, I’m here for checks, I can’t get crucified. I’m being denied due process, I’m entitled to do my time for checks first. And I don’t wanna get crucified, I can’t go now, ok? I’ll meet you later. C’mon, don’t be pushy now, okay? Okay, mah? they all went. And the guy came back…”Hey? You’re right. I knew you weren’t bullshitting, but heh-heh, I had a lot of faith in you, but you meet a lot of weird people in the joint, you know? You relax, I’ll talk to the press, that’s all. Then he started to wonder about if the Messiah is gonna come back. Moses is hanging it up. They tried to get him back like five times already and he will not come back because he’s embarrassed. Charlton Heston is 6’3, he’s 5’1. And he’s vain. “I can’t I’m a schmuck…” “It’s what ya got up here” “Nah…I ain’t got no clothes anyway, I’ll look weird. And I’ll get my teeth fixed.” “Nah” The Pope is too much. He looks like the Birdman of Alcatraz and Eichman combined, yeah. He waver…”Arrive arrive…” He’s really cute, he’s a little bird, bloobloobloo….I wonder what was goin’ on in his head there. Spellman looks like Shirley Temple. That’s what I got in trouble for in New York, for saying that. Heh-heh…but a Priest told me that! That’s what burns me up. Ha-ha! That’s what really ****** me off. That’s a spynce Shirley Temple. Ha! That’s funny Shirley Temple, that’s good imagery, right? The Post Office. Do you know how much I love the Post Office? I love the Post Man so much. I really feel that’s the only place where the authority and the man are one. That’s the man, they’re incorruptible. I don’t know anybody who knows the Post Man’s name. They’re really snotty man, it’s a…who’d have the audacity, “Come on over have a drink, leave the truck there..” I feel that the Post Man, the people that work for the po–and it’s amazing, no, there’s no, they’re maintaining any order there, no police authority, just cool Post Office. There’s always a Japanese guy behind the registry window and zaszu…Heh, it’s a trick thing to have a treaty, one ***, one szchupbupup, heh! I know, that they’re the true Law, because with the Law, the Law’s not concerned with your purpose, with how noble it is. And the Post Man wouldn’t let a package go three cents light for the Rabbi’s Priest’s ***. He won’t get off it jim. “Are you kidding you want all those people to die for four cents?” “Sorry, knupk” Who would have the audacity to ever to try to cross that line? “Look I know where the package is..” You kidding me with that? “Open the box up right now, it’s mine…” hmm-hm. No one would even say that to him. Even if he had a gun, hmm-hm. There’s always a certain kind of wait, always somebody…if I ever heard of a theft at the Post Office I’d die. “What?” “Oh yeah, they opened up the mail and they’ve been reading letters, and…” “Nyaugch” Like that, Post Office, going through snow and sleet. But they don’t like when dog’s bite them. That’s one thing they won’t put up any ****. The dog bites? That’s it, we’re not delivering anymore mail to you. Dig what ***** the Sheriff in Sacramento county had. His dog bit the Post Man, Post Man said no more mail, he said ******* we’ll give you no more protection. Haha-ha. Schluffa they don’t need it. They got the stamps hidden.

I have a book here I want to show you. Debby is a Nun. It’s another trick, a little Lyndon Johnson trick. This is a Bess magazine. What if he catch me reading this **** all the time? “This is your reading material?” “It certainly is. Photoplay, are you kidding?” “You’ve got guts!” Editorial page, ayda-eda look at the ads, Cutex, World’s Most–oh it’s all lady kinda ads…Adjustable Dress Form…I didn’t finish the story about uh, the Nun story here, lemme find it…there’s no more movie stars. Doris Day. Rock Hudson. Why Elvis locked himself in his bedroom for three days. Patty Duke. The few: There’s too good to be true, that’s the end of the two stories, now the fold out Post Man, heh-heh. Smart. The Study of Art. Hudson. Blew it, there’s not an interesting thing, I can’t lie to you. Try one more time. Okay, let’s see…Dorothy Malone’s First Interview After Her Brush With Death. Frozen. Look at that balcony up there…hope none of you guys are doing your usual chicks in the balcony. Don’t bring any heat on me, you know. Do your pervert stuff in the newsreel theater, but not…no, ya gotta time and a place you know…..heh. Ok, oh ok, I Increased My…With The Fabulous Mark Eden method I increased my bust measurement from a 34-B to a full 36-D i just eight weeks. They always give you time limits right? Just so you know you got something to look forward to. Ding-boom. Barbara Hayes received her Mark Eden Bust Developer and course on April 1, 1965, on which time her bust measurement was 34-B and eight weeks later n May 20, 1965 her bust had increased to a full and lovely *******! A lovely 36-D! That ***** is hunchback. But we kept our promise we didn’t say it was comin’ here somewhere. The Mark Method just builds your back up. This amazing increase–I know that they put–they, the guy that makes the copy for these must know that these are gonna be read in jail because that’s the onlybody who’s got time to read all of that ****…hah. Just forever and ever and ever. This amazing increase in bust size and contour is achieved solely through the faithful use of the Mark Eden bust developer and of course during that time Barbara was adding these firm and lovely inches to her bustling, her weight did not change, her eating and living habits did not change, the only change she made in her life was to spend a few minutes each day practicing the fabulous Mark Eden method. Her bust line developed in the privacy of her own home. As you can see from her after, in quotes, photo, she has certainly achieved a most attractive, full, and shapely bust line for her efforts. She wants real numbers like that, hunch over, elbows pushing forward there, and standing on her head. Uh, Barbara Hayes is one of the many many hundreds of women across the United States who have ordered the Mark Eden Bust Developer and who through its use, are reporting gains–that’s good devious writing. Barbara Hayes is one of the many many hundreds of women across the United States who have ordered the Mark Eden Bust Developer comma and who comma through its use comma are reporting gains of two three four and even more–that one letter we got was tough. She says “You name it, it’s not stopping.” We get letters from women who were flat chested and now feel like real women for the first time because of Mark Eden…Who are you Mark Eden? A **** rascal, you, hah-hah.” Are there any real **** left? **** your silicone. Are they real? I told you they’re real. How will I ever know though? Will you take a lie-detector test that those are your own ****? Yes, I told you. I can’t believe, you can’t….they’re too real to be real. Here’s the thing, this-this, I don’t see any chicks that turn me on anymore, ya know…but think, I ah-h, here’s how I now I’m getting old, cause I really did go through, I says, I haven’t seen any girls that really stimulate me, that look good to me. And you, it’s really corny, but dig what I miss: lipstick and powder. Is that weird? I like em with paint on em, ha-ha! To smell like ladies. Lily, lipstick, and powder. Now if I really get ****, pancake makeup. And a cheap, black, crepe dress that’s low-cut. Make a book up, see, and the book on its face will look like….it’s one of those very erudite How To Make Out, Same-*** Marriage, those kinda nut books, ya know. But if you follow the instruction of this book, you never make out at all. Ever. Really constructed so that’s a zero no-score. Sell it for $45 in plain wrapped brown paper. Now in it says, it says, Instructions: Always go over the house for dinner and meet the folks. And don’t forget when you go over the house and meet the folks, you compliment, and it’s just the dialogue the guy is supposed to use, say, say to the father, you know, “Oh Mr. Johnson, boy your daughter’s got a terrific shape on her, ha. God bless her, boy she gotta a body I’m telling ya. And your wife has got a nice shape on her too.” Then, when you’re out on a date, they like little jokes, it’s, then there’s a certain kinds, maybe not for this generation, my generation, certain kinda things that you just couldn’t say, just verboten, that just cringe, embarrassing things, that no one ever, here’s a kinda….stab your heart joke. Just keep saying’, “Whaddaya got the rag on?” Keep saying that, they like that, they get a kick, they like people who are frank, “Whaddaya got the rag on? Whaddaya got the..” keep saying’ it all night, that’s ah okay. And then, when you’re in the car, if you just ask them in a nice way for it, just say, and be cute about it, use euphemisms, double entendres. Say, “Oh, I wonder if I could get some nookie?” That’s very cute. “Oh boy, I wonder who’d give me some nookie, boy I wonder.” And they just think that’s so cute, and you’ll get it right away. And just say extra things, like “Boy I would, would I appreciate it, hah, that always, boy I’d appreciate that boy. I’d tell everybody what a nice person you were too.” I think that, a lot of marriages went West, ya know they went split up, uh, my generation, ladies didn’t know that guys were different, I mean different…it’s very tough for chicks to realize that although we speak the same language, that yer, you can have babies that’s j-j different ya–your so, it’s like, no guy ever cheated on his wife, ever. But ladies….would get hurt and wanna leave the husband because they thought the husbands cheated and they never did cheat because what cheating means I know. To a lady, it means kissing and hugging and liking somebody. You have to at least like somebody. Guys that doesn’t enter into it, all the time, no. Ladies are one emotion, and guys detach, not consciously detach, but they just do, detach. Like, a lady can’t go through a plate glass window and go to bed with you five seconds later. But guys can have head on collisions with Greyhound busses. In disaster areas. Everybody’s laying dead on the highway, not in the hospital, in the ambulance, guy makes a play for the Nurse. “How could he do a thing in a time like that.” “Well I got *****” “What?” “I got hot.” “How could you be hot when your foot was cut off?” “I don’t know.” “He’s an animal! He got hot with his foot cut off.” “I guess I’m an animal, ess-es-eh…” “What didja get hot at?” “The Nurses uniform..” He’s a *****, that’s all, he’s just an animal, he’s a…. No it’s…guys detach, and has nothing to do with liking, loving. You put guys on a desert island, they’ll do it to mud. Mud. So if you caught your husband with mud, some how you could get over seas there, “Mmuudd!! Don’t talk to me, that’s all….you *******, leave me alone, that’s all. Go with your mud, have fun. You want dinner? Get your mud to make dinner for you” that’s all. That’s-a it’s just that’s you can’t get angry at them, you can’t wanna leave them for that at all, no, it’s hum…You know, and that’s just subjective, in retrospect I really got a kick out of it.

Getting divorced, the only true get even device, because I’m really convinced that no guy ever leaves a chick, you know. When chicks get cold, they really get cold, sshwooo…That’s, it’s over, really, when it’s over with them it’s really over, and guys can’t ever figure that out, they always figure there’s one more time there. And the guy is like, ss-I can’t-ss, well, I boump-boump-boump. Yeah, cause-eh, here’s what I figure it is, you always hear chicks say, ya know, “Oh I wish I could meet a man, someone with some dignity, a guy I can walk all over, you know, can really be a man-a man” but chicks don’t know that, it’s, guys are like dogs. You know you take a dog, you beat the **** out of him pow! ” Keep a “NEUUH-NEUUH-NEUUH”. Pow keep coming back. Ladies are like cats, you yell at a cat once, Siamese cat, shhhht their gone. So that kinda quality that ladies are looking for, you really want a guy to act like a lady. Cause those are lady like traits, that kinda ***** and they don’t need anything. I forgot what the **** I was talking about…heh. I blew it completely. Where was I? I went up to za-zuh…hum…hah. Those television shows, really. Once in a while if I lose it you know and then try to ******* and do this a while but then if it’s really gone it’s gone, so….Ya see, that’s where, the problem of being a performer, and a Judge can get away with that ****, ya know. “Hmmmmmnnn”, you know just completely dunked out, ya know. “That’s, I’ll take that under consideration” yeah, yeah. Let’s see I was here….oh, oh yeah I got it, good. I won’t lose it again but I’m trying to think where the thread of it was…oh yeah, OK. The Get Even. So the only Get Even you can have with a chick, cause they leave you, are the kids. That’s the only Get Even, that’s the sweet revenge: Get the kids. But you can’t be that obvious with it, you know, just get the kids because I want to get even with you, you ******* you. So the, all the struction, the foundation is “I went over there the kids wet” heh. Schmuck, then all of a sudden “The kids, I’m not gonna, the kid’s not gonna live like that, every time I go over the kid’s wet, the kid’s wet. Everytime, the kid she don’t take care of the kid, the kid’s wet, and uh that’s it. I’m taking that kid away from her because the kid’s wet. She’s having guys over there. “You saw any guys?” “No, but, when the kid’s are wet, that’s it. Take the kid, I got custody of my kids now, I love my kids. You’re not gonna be with that ***** anymore, blah-blah-blah…” “Where are the kids?” “With my grandparents.” Very good, uhm-hmm-hm….Now it’s, usually what happens is break up time, just like the first…if you’re gonna break up with your old lady, and ya live in a small town, make sure you don’t break up at three o’clock in the morning cause your *******, there’s nothing to do. You sit in the car all night, park somewhere. Yeah. So make, at least, ya know, make it about nine in the morning so you can go to the five and ten and ******* around and, worry them a little and come back at seven at night, ya know….”Oh, yeah never mind….I’m getting an apartment, that’s all, that’s eh..” Yeah because if you, eh, a bad break up then it’s like a long time break up. If you’re married seven years then you gotta kick for two. Oh yeah. I think there must be a mitzvah time. i think if you’re married fifteen-eighteen years, you get divorced, then you must lose your mind. Yeah they get senile, then they people, they get whacked out. There’s a certain critical area they’re married about seven-eight years where you really throw up for a couple of years. No really just “ORGHJK-YKKGGHH”, you know. And, the weird, if you broke up and you go anyplace alone, there’s always mamzers who ask you about you’re wife. “Where’s your old lady?” and I said, Chinese restaurants, “Where’s Momo? How come you don’t bring Momo in here anymore? Such a beautiful girl, where’s Momo?” “Look, I’m divorced.” “Oh, you better off. You don’t need her.” Where’s Momo…Now if you, go back together, the danger time, and here’s back to the religion again. There’s only one person you’re supposed to confess to. They are. Not anybody else. Priests, solid. But not husbands. They have no authority vested in them to hear any truth. So don’t listen to any of their ****, ya know, because what happens, when this–go back together, guy calls up, “Hello Vera, the only reason I called you, you left some of your crap over here. I don’t know a handkerchief, a gloves. Listen I wanna come over, we’ll shoot the ****, let’s see. Pay the tax bill.” Alright, back together, maybe kissing time, hugging time, in bed time. After bed time. “Hey Vera, uh, when we were broken up, didja make it with a lot of guys? Don’t be silly, said I don’t mind you can make it with anybody, don’t ******* me….what the hell, it’s good for the goose, good for the gander. We were legally separated, I made it with a lotta lotta chicks, you’re entitled to make it with a lot of guys. I’d just like to know, for the hell of it, didja make it with a lot of guys? Howmanynanac’mon don’t ******* me, I’m not gonna hit you now, I wanna know! I’m not gonna get mad, just for the hell of it, who did you make it with?” Don’t tell him, don’t cop out. Never cop out, if they got pictures deny it. Flat out. Just tell ’em it was some *** hair dresser, that’s all…thatsezya. Because if you ever do cop out, oh yeah, shih-shooo! “C’mon I’m not gonna get mad, tell me, I’d just like to know for the hell of it.” See, that’s what chicks don’t know about guys, that they…it’s that entrapment. Maybe it’s because their father’s did that to them. “Just tell me, who? Him? Pfff…I don’t give a **** but, but this is….that’s a shocker, that’s heh…heh, that’s the only thing is that it shocks me, I’m not mad but it, sfyeh what a kick in the *** that is, like…how the hell could you…you know what, you know why it shocks me cause you told me that you didn’t like him, you told me you didn’t want him over to the house, and ya go…how could you make it with him? That fat, disgusting piece of–you **** pow. There’s a Peace Bond, schlepping away time, ah yes, with the Jewish mother in the middle with the teeth flying out vah-vah-vah!! The chenille robe, and uh…Yeah, that’s a…ha-ha. Wouldn’t this be, always wondered if ya get married again, the only problem with ever getting married again, if ya go, you have to go to some country where pfshhh…you have to marry somebody who speaks a different language and doesn’t speak any other language. Cause just in case, no but you’d always be afraid cause when your with the second old lady then you might say something in bed, and your wife would jump up behind the bed, “You aaa—-you said” oh god, “how could you say that to her when you said it to me?” “I just ******* her, I don’t love her…I just said that cause I knew you were behind the bed, that’s all.” Uh-huh…Jewish mothers, there are none that’s the expose. Oh another expose, I really want to confess to you one thing you never knew about me and….I have a pen name. Ralph Gleason. I’m Ralph Gleason. And I always wanted to uh, and you’re taking it good, I always thought you’d get ******* at me for that. In fact I wrote the column for years and just drifted into this and decided I’d like to do a little comedy on the side and uh, you liked me and I thought I was doing good, so what the hell a few write ups don’t hurt anybody. And uh…you’re taking it good, that’s lovely. I want you to know that, another thing too that I’ve never been in jail, never been arrested, that’s all borshit. What it is see, I got a publicity agent that’s dynamite, and we have nine phony cops that work for Pinkerton, and we go from town to town the same *******, ya know. I get busted, I write the column the next day, and that’s where it’s at…heh. A few words now about Alaska and their stupidness…and ind-a…Alaska, don’t know if you know it or not, there are people up there that we’ve given a lot of money to and try to help them. Given a lotta lotta money to Alaska, to create some kind of image, we gave them statehood and they’re morons. They got one image, after all these years, some schmuck in front of a shack holding a fish knock. That’s all they’ve come up with, and some other nonsense fantasy that hookers get two-thousand dollars a minute for talking to people. If you probably go up there there’s ten-million stranded ****** waiting to talk to somebody. “What’s the deal I thought there was supposed to be some talking, or…we just got *******, right, there’s nobody? Just hookers up here….and Admiral Byrd. Heh-heh, he don’t go for a nickel. Now here’s a thought, I-I-I’ve….this is hearsay. Somebody told me–see they were using–the report was monkey glands on people, so you know, rejuvenate them, they live longer. Ok, now somebody told me they came back from Mexico, that they’re using human glands. “So-oh yeah? Well where do they get them?” “Has to be from live people.” Well people, there was–dying, and uh…it’s very expensive. So that’s what I said, what does it costs about a thousand dollars ya now…so I got hip, a lot of people are dying a lilschip-schzzch that’s uh, oh yeah, the hospitals a lil-bop-plah-bup, yuh, he’s dead, he’s almost dead, the hell is-uzza….Sure you’re gonna see is the more demand, the first place the state insane asylums are gonna be emptied out quick psshhhh! Yeah, that’s the first thing, all the nuthouses emptied out. All died very quickly, oh yeah, definitely. Because, all we have to do…see our moral concept is what’s–what, it’s–what’s accepted, what we will agree upon, that’s what the moral concept is. We–if we agree, that…killing a few will save the biggest, then we’ll agree on it. Like that’s–that’s was the objection that Catholicism had for many years, that contraception is ******. It doesn’t matter the degree of the ******, but-but since we all agreed on it now, contraception–*******, it’s cool. So it’s just the degree. So..if it comes right down to it, if we wanna live a little longer, it won’t-it won’t be accepted, just the sophisticated class, the gentry will cook with it first, ya know. Yeah, “Listen, I know a place and it’s ya now…” Yeah, and as soon as–the first time the government control–then they’ll have the farms. Yeah, raising people to, uh, to live. It’s a good liver, good heart, yeah. You’ll accept it, yeah, you’ll see. When it comes right down to the go-you go bye-bye, “These people don’t know anything, they’re raised for that purpose.” “Yeah, ya sure?” “I’m telling you…they like that.” Heh-ha! OK. “I wanna paper saying that he gave it up…oh and I can’t take the guys liver and his heart and his *****, all that stuff?” “Sure, are you kidding, he’s better off without it. He gets it the next time, don’t you know that? Nine thousand years I’ve been living now, it’s a…yeah, it’s a…schhhwoo….”
Ryan O'Leary Aug 2019
On the face of it, one would
assume by the title, that this
is bread made by ones mother.

Not so, Mummy's Bread is a
term used for the discovery
of yeast in the pyramids.

At the point of burial, the
aristocrats were adorned with
gold, silver and urns of yeast.

Archaeological digs by geologists
have uncovered deposits of live
yeast thousands of years old.

Recently, with the help of bakers,
bred has been produced from these
scrapings, known as Mummy's  Bread.
Acme Apr 2020
New York Times said it.
  God is dead. Heaven's empty.
  Hell is cold ash.
  The devil's in the details.
  Heaven will be Timeshares.
  Hell will be for Geologists.

— The End —